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BACON'S ESSAYS

WISDOM OF THE AK"CIEFTS

WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE BY A. SPIERS

PREFACE BY B. MONTAGU, AND NOTES

BY DIFFERENT WRITERS

BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWK, AND COMPANY

Xhk UioTEBsmr Pbbss, Cambbioob, Mass., 0. S. A.

SRLE
URL

c,cl 1^-?3S86

ADVERTISEMENT.

In preparing the present volume for the press, use
has been freely made of several publications which have
recentl}- appeared in England. The Biographical Notice
of the author is taken from an edition of the Essays, by
A. Spiers, Ph. D. To this has been added the Preface
to Pickering's edition of the Essays and Wisdom of the
Ancients, by Basil Montagu, Esq. Parker's edition, by
Thomas Markbj-, M. A., has furnished the arrangement
of the Table prefixed to the Essays, and also "the
references to the most important quotations." The
Notes, including the translations of the Latin, are
chiefly copied from Bohn's edition, prepared by Joseph
Devey, M. A. We have given the modern translation
of the Wisdom of the Ancients contained in Bohn's
edition, in preference to that " done by Sir Arthur
Gorges," although the last mentioned has a claim upon
regard, as having been made by a contemporary of Lord
Bacon, and published in his lifetime. Its language is
in the style of English current in the author's age, and
for this reason may resemble more nearly what the phil-
osopher himself would have used, had he composed the
work in his own tongue instead of Latin.

CONTENTS.

Preface by B. Montagu, Esq xi

Introductory Notice of the Life and Writings of Bacon, by

A. Spiers, Pli. D 1

ESSAYS; OR, COUNSELS CIVIL AND MORAL.

Of Truth . . .

1625;

Of Death . . .

1612;

enlarged 1625 . . . .

'^s.

Of Unity in Relig-

Of Religion 1612 ; rewrit-

ion

ten 1625

f*.

Of Revenge . . .
Of Adversity , .
Of Simulation and

1625;

i. 6.

1625;

Dissimulation

1625;

ir 7.

Of Parents and

Children . . .

1612;

enlarged 1625 . . . .

k 8-

Of Marriage and

Single Life . .

1612;

slightly enlarged 1625 . ,

f 9.

Of Envy. . . .
Of Love ....

1625 ;

y 10.

1612;

rewritten 1625 . . . .

^11.

Of Great Place .

1612 ;

sUghtly enlarged 1625

12.

Of Boldness . .
Of Goodness, and

1625;

103

13.

Goodness of Na-

ture

1612;

; enlarged 1625 . . . .

105

/14.

Of Nobility . . .

1612;

rewritten 1625 . . . .

110

15.

Of Seditions and

Troubles . . .

1625;

113

CONTENTS.

»o.

PAGB

i^ie.

Of Atheism . . .

1612;

slightly enlarged 1625 .

124

17.

Of Superstition .

1612;

C( « ((

130

18.

Of Travel . . .

1625;

132

19.

Of Empire . . .

1612;

much enlarged 1625 . .

135

20.

Of Counsels . .

1612;

enlarged 1625 ....

143

21.

Of Delays . . .

1625;

151

1,-22.

Of Cunning . , .

1612;

rewritten 1625 . . .

153

23.

Of Wisdom for a

Man's Self . .

1612;

enlarged 1625 ....

159

24.

Of Innovations

1625;

161

25.

Of Dispatch . .

1612;

163

26.

Of Seeming Wise ,

1612;

166

{^27.

Of Friendship . .

1612;

rewritten 1625 . . . .

168

i. 28.

Of Expense . .

1597;

enlarged 1612 ; and again
1625

179

29.

Of the true Great-
ness of Kingdoms

and Estates . .

1612;

enlarged 1625 . . . .

181

30.

Of Regimen of

Health . . .

1597;

enlarged 1612 ; again
1625

195

31.

Of Suspicion . .
Of Discourse . .

1625;

197

/, 32.

1597;

slightly enlarged 1612;

again 1625 ....

199

33.

Of Plantations . .

1625;

202

34.

Of Riches . . .

1612;

much enlarged 1625 . *

207

35.

Of Prophecies . .

1625;

212

tr 36.

Of Ambition . .

1612;

enlarged 1625 ....

217

^ 37.

Of Masques and

Triumphs . . .

1625 ;

218

38.

Of Nature in Men

1612;

enlarged 1625 ....

223

39.

Of Custom and Ed-

ucation . . .

1612;

(( ((

225

K40.

Of Fortune . . .

1612;

slightly enlai^d 1625 .

228

41.

Of Usury . . .

1625;

231

CONTENTS. vu

MO. PAGE

42. Of Youth and Age 1612 ; slightly enlarged 1625 . 237

^43. Of Beauty . . . 1612; " " " . . 240

44. Of Deformity . . 1612 ; somewhat altered 1625 . 241

45. Of Building . . 1625; 243

|r 46. Of Gardens. . . 1625;. 249

47. Of Negotiating . 1597; enlarged 1612; very

slightly altered 1625 . 259

48. Of Followers and

Friends , . . 1597 ; slightly enlarged 1625 . 261

49. Of Suitors . . . 1597 ; enlarged 1625 .... 264
l<50. Of Studies . . . 1597; " " . . . . 266

51. Of Faction . . . 1597 ; much enlarged 1625 . . 269

52. Of Ceremonies and

Respects . . . 1597; enlarged 1625 . ... 271

53. Of Praise . . . 1612; " " . . . . 273

54. Of Vainglory . . 1612; 276

55. Of Honor and Rep-

utation . . . 1597 ; omitted 1612 ; repub-

hshed 1625 .... 279

56. Of Judicature . . 1612; 282

V^57. Of Anger . . . 1625; 289

68. Of the Vicissitude

of Things . . . 1625 ; 292

APPENDIX TO ESSAYS.

1. Fragment of an Essay of Fame 301

2. Of a King 303

3. An Essay on Death 307

THE WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS ; A SERIES OF

MYTHOLOGICAL FABLES.

Preface 317

1. Cassandra, or Divination. Explained of too free and

unseasonable Advice 323

2. TyphoUj or a Rebel. Explained of Rebellion . . . 324

viii CONTENTS.

tto. rAGF.

3. The Cyclops, or the Ministers of Terror. Explained

of base Court Officers 327

4. Narcissus, or Self-Love 329

5. The Eiver Styx, or Leagues. Explained of Necessity,

in the Oaths or Solemn Leagues of Princes . . . 331

6. Pan, or Nature. Explained of Natural Philosophy . 333

7. Perseus, or War. Explained of the Prepai-ation and

Conduct necessary to War 343

8. Endymion, or a Eavorite. Explained of Court Favor-

ites 348

9. The Sister of the Giants, or Eame. Explained of

Public Detraction 350

10. Aeteon and Pentheus, or a Curious Man. Explained

of Curiosity, or Prying into the Secrets of Princes

and Divine Mysteries 351

11. Orpheus, or Philosophy. Explained of Natural and

Moral Philosophy 353

12. Coelum, or Beginnings. Explained of the Creation,

or Origin of all Things 357

13. Proteus, or Matter. Explained of Matter and its

Changes 360

14. Memnon, or a Youth too forward. Explained of the

fatal Precipitancy of Youth 363

15. Tythonus, or Satiety. Explained of Predominant

Passions 364

16. Juno's Suitor, or Baseness. Explained of Submission

and Abjection 365

17. Cupid, or an Atom. Explained of the Corpuscular

Philosophy 366

18. Diomed, or Zeal. Explained of Persecution, or Zeal

for Religion 371

19. Dsedalus, or Mechanical Skill. Explained of Arts and

Artists in Kingdoms and States 374

20. Erictliouius, or Imposture. Explained of the improper

Use of Force in Natural Philosophy 37^

CONTENTS. rs.

HO. PAGE

21. Deucalion, or Restitution. Explained of a useful Hint

in Natural Philosophy 379

22. Nemesis, or the Vicissitude of Things. Explained of

the Reverses of Fortune 380

23. Achelous, or Battle. Explained of War by Invasion . 383
21. Dionysus, or Bacchus. Explained of the Passions . 384

25. Atalauta and Hippo menes, or Gain. Explained of the

Contest betwixt Art and Nature 389

26. Prometheus, or the State of Man. Explained of an

Overruling Providence, and of Human Nature . . 391

27. Icarus and Scylla and Charybdis, or the Middle Way.

Explained of Mediocrity in Natural and Moral
Philosophy 407

28. Sphinx, or Science. Explained of the Sciences . . 409

29. Proserpine, or Spirit. Explained of the Spirit in-

cluded in Natural Bodies 413

30. Metis, or Counsel. Explained of Princes and their

Council 419

31. The Sirens, or Pleasures. Explained of Men's Pas-

sion for Pleasures 430

PREFACE.

In the early part of the year 1597, Lord Bacon's first
publication appeared. It is a small 12mo. volume, en-
titled " Essay es, Religious Meditations, Places of Per-
swasion and Disswasion." It is dedicated

" To M. Anthony Bacon, his deare Brother.

" Louing and beloned Brother, I doe nowe like some that
have an Orcharde ill Neighbored, that gather their Fruit be-
fore it is ripe, to preuent stealing. These Fragments of my
Conceites were going to print. To labour the staie of them
had bin troublesome, and subiect to interpretation ; to let them
passe had beene to aduenture the wrong they mought receiue
by vntrue Coppies, or by some Garnishment, which it mought
please any that should set them forth to bestow vpon them.
Therefore I helde it best as they passed long agoe from my
Pen. without any further disgrace, then the weaknesse of the
Author. And as I did euer hold, there mought be as great
a vanitie in retiring and withdrawing mens conceites (except
they bee of some nature) from the World, as in obtruding
them : So in these particulars I haue played myself the In-
quisitor, and find nothing to my vnderstanding in them con-
trarie or infectious to the state of Religion, or Manners, but
rather (as I suppose) medecinable. Only I disliked now to
put them out, because they will be like the late new Halle-

Xii PREFACE.

pence, which, though the Siluer were good, yet the Peeces
were small. But since they would not stay with their Mas-
ter, but would needes trauaile abroade, I haue preferred them
to you that are next my selfe, Dedicating them, such as they
are, to our Loue, in the depth whereof (I assure you) I some-
times wish your Infirmities translated vppon my selfe, that
her Maiestie mought haue the Seruice of so actiue and able
a Mind, and I mought be with excuse confined to these Con-
t<!mplation8 and Studies for which I am fittest, so commend
I you to the Preseruation of the Diuine Maiestie : From my
Chamber at Graies Inne, tliis 30 of Januarie, 1597. Your
entire Louing Brother, Fran. Bacon."

The Essays, which are ten in number, abound with
condensed thought and practical wisdom, neatly, pressly,
and weightil}' stated, and, like all his early works, are
simple, without imager}'. They are written in his favor-
ite stjie of aphorisms, although each essay is apparently
a continued work, and without that love of antithesis
and false glitter to which truth and justness of thought
are frequently sacrificed b}- the writers of maxims.

A second edition, with a translation of the Medita-
tiones Sacrce^ was published in the next 3'ear ; and
another edition enlarged in 1612, when he was solicitor-
general, containing thirty-eight essays ; and one still
more enlarged in 1625, containing fifty-eight essays, the
year before his death.

The Essays in the subsequent editions are much aug-
mented, according to his own words: "I alwa^-s alter
when I add, so that nothing is finished till all is fin-
ished," and they are adorned by happy and familiar
illustration, as in the essay of Wisdom for a Man's
Self, which concludes, in the edition of 1625, with the

PREFACE. xiii

following extract, not to be found in the previous edi-
tion : " Wisdom for a man's self is, in many branches
thereof, a depraved thing. It is the wisdom of rats,
that will be sure to leave a house somewhat before it
fall. It is the wisdom of the fox, that thrusts out the
badger, who digged and made room for him. It is the
wisdom of crocodiles, that shed tears when they would
devour. But that which is specially to be noted is,
that those which (as Cicero says of Pompey) are /Sui
Amantes sine Mivali are many times unfortunate. And
whereas the}' have all their time sacrificed to themselves,
they become in the end themselves sacrifices to the in-
constancy of Fortune, whose wings they thought, by
their self wisdom, to have pinioned."

So in the essay upon Adversity, on which he had
deeply reflected before the edition of 1625, when it first
appeared, he says: "The virtue of prosperity is tem-
perance ; the virtue of adversity is fortitude ; which in
morals is the more heroical vii'tue. Prosperity' is the
blessing of the Old Testament ; adversity is the bless-
ing of the New, which carrieth the great benediction,
and the clearer revelation of God's favor. Yet, even
in the Old Testament, if you listen to David's harp,
you shall hear as many hearse-like airs as carols ; and
the pencil of the Hoi}" Ghost hath labored more in
describing the afflictions of Job than the felicities of
Solomon. Prosperity is not without many fears and
distastes, and adversity is not without comforts and
hopes. We see in needle-works and embroideries, it
is more pleasing to have a lively work upon a sad and
solemn ground than to have a dark and melancholy
work upon a lightsome ground ; judge, therefore, of the

xiv PREFACE.

pleasure of the heart by the pleasure of the eye. Cer-
tainlj^ virtue is like precious odors, most fragrant when
the}' are incensed, or crushed ; for prosperity doth best
discover vice, but adversity doth best discover virtue."

The Essays were immediatel}' translated into French
and Italian, and into Latin, by some of his friends,
amongst whom were Hacket, Bishop of Lichfield, and
his constant, affectionate friend, Ben Jonson.

His own estimate of the value of this work is thus
stated in his letter to the Bishop of Winchester : "As
for m}' Essa3's, and some other particulars of that na-
ture, I count them but as the recreations of my other
studies, and in that manner purpose to continue them ;
though I am not ignorant that these kind of writings
would, with less pains and assiduity', perhaps yield more
lustre and reputation to my name than the others I have
in hand."

Although it was not likely that such lustre and repu-
tation would dazzle him, the admirer of Phocion, who,
when applauded, turned to one of his friends, and asked,
" What have I said amiss? " although popular judgment
was not likeh'^ to mislead him who concludes his obser-
vations upon ^ he objections to learning and the advan-
tages of knowledge by saying : " Nevertheless, I do not
pretend, and I know it will be impossible for me, by
any pleading of mine, to reverse the judgment either of
^sop's cock, that preferred the barlej'corn before the
gem ; or of Midas, that being chosen judge between
Apollo, president of the Muses, and Pan, god of the
flocks, judged for plenty ; or of Paris, thai judged for
beauty and love against wisdom and power. For these
things continue as they have been ; but so will that also

PREFACE. XV

continue whereupon learning hath ever relied and which
faileth not, Justificata est sainentia a filiis suis : "
3'et he seems to hav^e undervalued this little work, which
for two centuries has been favorably' received bj- ever}'
lover of knowledge and of beaut}-, and is now so well
appreciated that a celebrated professor of our own times
truly 8a3's: " The small volume to which he has given
the title of ' Essay's,' the best known and the most popu-
jar of all his works, is one of those where the supe-
riority of his genius appears to the greatest advantage,
the novelty and depth of his reflections often receiving
a strong relief from the triteness of the subject. It may
be read from beginning to end in a few hours ; and j'et
after the twentieth perusal one seldom fails to remark
in it something overlooked before. This, indeed, is a
characteristic of all Bacon's writings, and is only to be
accounted for b}^ the inexhaustible aliment the}" furnish
to our own thoughts and the sympathetic activity they
impart to our torpid faculties."

During his life six or more editions, which seem to
have been pirated, were published ; and after his death,
two spurious essays, "Of Death," and "Of a King,"
the only authentic posthumous essay being the Frag-
ment of an Essay on Fame, which was published by his
friend and chaplain, Dr. Rawley.

This edition is a transcript of the edition of 1625, with
the posthumous essays. In the life of Bacon ^ there is a
minute account of the difl!'erent editions of the Essays
and of their contents.

They may shortly be stated as follows : —

^ By B. Montagu. Appendix, note 3, I.
6

xvi PREFACE.

First edition, 1597, genuine.

There are two copies of tiiis edition in the university
library at Cambridge ; and there is Archbishop San-
croft's copy in Emanuel Library ; there is a copy in the
Bodleian, and I have a cop3'.

Second edition, 1598, genuine.

Third edition, 1606, pirated.

Fourth edition, entitled "The Essaies of Sir Francis
Bacon, Knight, the Kings Solliciter Generall. Imprinted
at London b}' lohn Beale, 1612," genuine. It was the
intention of Sir Francis to have dedicated this edition to
Henr}-, Prince of Wales ; but he was prevented by the
death of the prince on the 6th of November in that year.
This appears by the following letter : —

To the Most High and Excellent Prince, Henry, Prince of
Wales, Duke of Cornwall, and Earl of Chester.

It may please your Highness : Having divided my life into
the contemplative and active part, I am desirous to give his
Majesty and your Highness of the fruits of both, simple though
they be. To write just treatises, requireth leisure in the writer
and leisure in the reader, and therefore are not so fit, neither
in regard of your Highuess's princely affairs nor in regard of
my continual service ; which is the cause that hath made me
choose to write certain brief notes, set down rather significantly
than curiously, which I have called Essays. The word is late,
but the thing is ancient ; for Seneca's Epistles to Lucilius, if
you mark them well, are but Essays ; that is, dispersed medi-
tations though conveyed in the form of epistles. These labors
of mine, I know, cannot be worthy of your Highness, for what
can be worthy of you ? But my hope is, they may be as grains
of salt, that will rather give you an appetite than offend you
with satiety. And although they handle those things wliereia

PREFACE. xvii

both men's lives and their persons are most conversant ; yet
what I have attained I know not ; but I have endeavored to
make them not vulgar, but of a nature whereof a man shall
find much in experience and little in books ; so as they are
neither repetitious nor fancies. But, however, I shall most
humbly desire your Highn; ss to accept them in gracious part,
and to conceive, that if I cannot rest but must show my duti-
ful and devoted aftoction to your Highness in these things
which proceed from myself, I shall be much more ready to
do it in perfonnance of any of your princely commandments.
And so wishing your Highness all princely felicity, I rest your
Highness's most humble servant,
1612. Fr. Bacon,

It was dedicated as fellows : —

To my loving Brothe:, Sir John Constable, Knt.

My last Essaies I dedicated to my deare brother Master
Anthony Bacon, M^ho is with God. Looking amongst my
Papers this vacation, I found others of the same nature :
which, if I myselfe shall not suflFer to be lost, it seemeth the
World will not ; by the often printing of the former. Miss-
ing my Brother, I found you next ; in respect of bond both of
neare Alliance, and of straight Friendship and Societie, and
particularly of communication in Studies. Wherein I must
acknowledge my selfe beholding to you. For as my Businesse
found rest in my Contemplations, so my Contemplations ever
found rest in your loving Conference and Judgment. So wish-
ing you all good, I remaine your louing Brother and Friend,

Fra. Bacon.

Fifth edition, 1612, pirated. Sixth edition, 1613, pi-
rated. Seventh edition, 1624, pirated. Eighth edition,
1624, pirated. Ninth edition, entitled, "The Essayes
or Covnsels, Civill and Morall, of Francis Lo. Vervlam,

xviii PREFACE.

Viscovnt St. Alban. Newly enlarged. London, Printed
by lohn Haviland for Hanna Barret and Richard Whita-
ker, and are to be sold at the Signe of the King's Head
in Paul's Churchyard." 1625, genuine.

This edition is a small quarto of 340 pages ; it clearly
was pubUshed by Lord Bacon ; and in the next year,
1626, Lord Bacon died. The Dedication is as follows,
to the Duke of Buckingham : —

To the Eight Honorable my very good Lo. the Duke of Buck-
ingham his Grace, Lo. High Admirall of England.

Excellent Lo. : — Salomon sales, A good Name is as
a precious Oyutment ; and I assure myselfe, such wil your
Grace's Name bee, with Posteritie. For your Fortune and
Merit both, haue beene eminent. And you haue planted things
that are like to last. I doe now publish my Essayes ; which,
of all my other Workes, have beene most currant : for that, as
it seemes, they come home to Mens Businesse and Bosomes. I
haue enlarged them both in number and weight, so that they
are indeed a new Work. I thought it therefore agreeable to
my Affection, and Obligation to your Grace, to prefix your
Name before them, both in English and in Latine. For I
doe conceiue, that the Latine Volume of them (being in the
vniuersal language) may last as long as Bookes last. My
Instauration I dedicated to the King : my Historie of Henry
the Seventh (which I haue now also translated into Latine),
and my Portions of Naturall History, to the Prince : and these
I dedicate to your Grace : being of the best Fruits, that by
the good encrease which God gives to my pen and labours,
I could yeeld. God leade your Grace by the Hand. Your
Graces most obhged and faithfull Seruaut.

Fr. St. Alban.

PREFACE. xix

Of this edition, Lord Bacon sent a cop}' to the Mar-
quis Fiat, with the following letter : ^ —

** Monsieur l'Ambassadeur mon Filz : Voyant qne
vostre Excellence faict et traite Mariarjes, non seulemeiit entre
les Princes d'Angleterre co dc France, niais aussi entre les
langues (puis que faictes traduire mon Liure de I'Advance-
ment des Sciences en Francois) i'ai bien voulu vous envoyer
mon Liure demierement imprime que i'avois pourveu pour
vous, mais i'estois en double, de le vous envoyer, pour ce
qu'il estoit escrit en Anglois. Mais a' cest'heure pour la raison
susdicte le le vous envoye. C'est un Recompilement de mes
Essays Morales et Civiles; mais tellement enlargies et en-
richies, tant de nombre que de poix, que c'est de fait un ouvre
nouveau. le vous baise les mains, et reste vostre tres afiFec-
tion^e Ami, et tres humble Serviteur.

THE SAME IN ENGLISH.

My Lord Ambassador, my Son : Seeing that your Ex-
cellency makes and treats of Marriages, not only betwixt the
Princes of France and England, but also betwixt their lan-
guages (for you have caused my book of the Advancement of
Learning to be translated into French), I was much inclined
to make you a present of the last book which I published, and
which I had in readiness for you. I was sometimes in doubt
whether I ought to have sent it to you, because it was writ-
ten in the English tongue. But now, for that very reason, I
send it to you. It is a recompilement of my Essays Moral
and Civil ; but in such manner enlarged and enriched both in
number and weight, that it is in effect a new work. I kiss
your hands, and remain your most affectionate friend and most
humble servant, &c.

Of the translation of the Essays into Latin, Bacon
speaks in the following letter: —

1 Baconiana, 201.

XX PKEFACE.

" To Mr. Tobib Mathew : It is true my labors are now
most set to have those works which I had formerly published,
as that of Advancement of Learning, that of Henry VII., that
of the Essays, being retractate and made more perfect, well
translated into Latin by the help of some good pens which for-
sake me not. For these modern languages will, at one time
or other, play the bankrupt with books ; and since I have
lost much time with this age, I would be glad, as God shall
give me leave, to recover it with posterity. For the Essay
of Friendsliip, while I took your speech of it for a cursory
request, I took my promise for a compliment. But since you
caU for it, I shall perform it."

In his letter to Father Fulgentio, giving some account
of his writings, he says : —

" The Novum Organum should immediately follow ; but my
moral and political writings step in between as being more
finished. These are, the History of King Henry VII., and the
small book, which, in your language, you have called Saggi
Morali, but I give it a graver title, that of Sermones Fideles,
or Interiora Rerum, and these Essays will not only be enlarged
in number, but stiQ more in substance."

The nature of the Latin edition, and of the Essays in
general, is thus stated by Archbishop Tenison : —

" The Essays, or Counsels Civil and Moral, though a by-
work also, do yet make up a book of greater weight by far
than the Apothegms ; and coming home to men's business
and bosoms, his lordship entertained this pei-suasion concern-
ing them, that tlie Latin volume might last as long as books
should last. His lordship wrote them in the English tongue,
and enlarged them as occasion served, and at last added to
them the Colors of Good and Evil, which are likewise found
in his book De Augnientis. The Latin translation of them waa

PREFACE. xxi

a work performed by divers hands : by those of Dr. Ilacket
(late Bishop of Lichfield), Mr. Benjamin Jonson (the learned
and judicious poet,) and some others, whose names I once
heard from Dr. Eawley, but I cannot now recall them. To
this Latin edition he gave the title of Sermones Fideles, after
tlie manner of the Jews, who called the words Adagies, or
Observations of the Wise, Faithful Sayings ; that is, credible
propositions worthy of firm assent and ready acceptance. And
(as I think), he alluded more particularly, in this title, to a
passage in Ecclesiastes, where the preacher saith, tnat he
sought to find out Verba Delectabilia (as Tremellius render-
eth the Hebrew) , pleasant words ; (that is, perhaps, his Book
of Canticles ;) and Verba Fidelia (as the same Tremellius),
Faithful Sayings ; meaning, it may be, his collection of Prov-
erbs. In the next verse, he calls them Words of the Wise,
and so many goads and nails given ab eodem pastore, from the
same shepherd [of the flock of Israel"].

In the year 1638, Rawley published, in folio, a
volume containing, amongst other works, Sermones
J^ideles, ab ipso Honoratissimo Auctore, proeterquam
in paucis, Latinitate donati. In his address to the
reader, he says : —

Accedunt, quaspriiis Delibationes Civiles et Morales inscrip-
serat ; Quas etiam in Linguas plurimas Modernas translatas
esse novit ; sed eas posted, et Numero, et Pondere, auxit ; In
tantum, ut veluti Opus Novum videri possint ; Quas mutato
Titulo, Sermones Fideles, sive Interiora Rerum, inscribi pla-
cuit. The title-page and dedication are annexed : Sermones
Fideles sive Interiora Berum. Per Franciscum Baconum BarO'
ronem de Vervlamio, Vice-Comitem Sancti Albani. Londini
Excusum typis Fdwardi Griffin. Prostant ad Insignia Regia
in Coemeterio D. Pauli, apud Eiehardum Whitaherum, 1G33.

xxii PREFACE.

Illustri et Excelleoti Domino Georgia Duci BiickinghamuB,
Sumino Anglice Admirallio.

Honoratissime Domine, Salomon inquit, Nomen honum est
instar Vnguenti fragrantis et pretiosi ; Neque dubito, quin tale
futurum sit Nomen tuum apud Posteros. Eteuim et For-
tuna, et Merita tua, praecelluerunt. Et videris ea plantasse,
quae sint duratura. In lucein jam edere mihi visum est Deliba-
tiones meas, quae ex onmibus meis Operibus fuerunt acceptis-
simae : Quia forsitan videntur, prae caeteris, Hominum Negotia
stringere, et in sinus fluere. Eas autem auxi, et Numero, et
Pondere ; In tantum, ut plan5 Opus Novum sint. Consenta-
neum igitur duxi, Aflfectui, et Obligation! mese, erga Illustris-
simam Dominationem tuam, ut Nomen tuum illis praefigam,
tarn in Editione Anglicd, quam Latind. Etenim, in bona
spe sum, Volumen earum in Latinam {Linguam scilicet uui-
versalem), versum, posse durare, quamdiil lAhri et LitercB
durent. Instaurationem meam Itegi dicavi : Historiam Regni
Henrid Septimi (quam etiam in Latinum verti et Poitiones
meas Naturalis Historiie, Prindpi) : Has autem Delibationes
Illustrissimes Dominationi tuae dico, Cum sint, ex Fructibus
optimis, quos Gratia divina Calami mei laboribus indulgeute,
exhibere potui. Deus illustrissimam Dominationem tuam manu
ducat. UlustrissimcB Dominationis tuse Servus Devinctissimua
et Fidelis. Fr. S. Alban.

In the 3'ear 1618, the Essays, together with the Wis-
dom of the Ancients, was translated into Italian, and
dedicated to Cosmo de Medici, by Tobie Mathew ; and
in the following j-ear the Essays were translated into
French by Sir Arthur Gorges, and printed in London.

PREFACE. xxiii

WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

In the year 1609, as a relaxation from abstruse specu-
lations, he published in Latin his interesting little work^
De Sapientia Veterum.

This tract seems, in former times, to have been much
valued. The fables, abounding with a union of deep
thought and poetic beaut}', are tliirty-one in number,
of which a part of The Sirens, or Pleasures, may be
selected as a specimen.

In this fable he explains the common but erroneous
supposition that knowledge and the conformit}' of the
will, knowing and acting, are convertible terms. Of
this error, he, in his essay of Custom and Education,
admonishes his readers, by saying: "Men's thoughts
are much according to their inclination ; their discourse
and speeches according to their learning and infused
opinions, but their deeds are after as they have been
accustomed ; iEsop's Damsel, transformed from a cat
to a woman, sat very demurely at the board-end till a
mouse ran before her." In the fable of the Sirens he
exhibits the same truth, saj'ing: "The habitation of
the Sirens was in certain pleasant islands, from whence,
as soon as out of their watchtower the}' discovered any
ships approaching, with their sweet tunes they would
first entice and stay them, and, having them in their
power, would destroy them ; and, so great were the mis-
chiefs they did, that these isles of the Sirens, even as
far off as man can ken them, appeared all over white
with the bones of unburied carcasses ; by which it is
signified that albeit the examples of afflictions be mani-

xxiv PREFACE.

fest and eminent, j-et they do not sufficient!}- deter us
from the wicked enticements of pleasure."

The following is the account of the different editions
of this work : The first was published in 1609. In Feb-
ruary 27, 1610, Lord Bacon wrote to Mr. Mathew, upon
sending his book De Sapientia Veterum : —

" Mr. Mathew : I do very heartily thank you for your let-
ter of the 24th of August, from Salamanca} and in recom-
pense therefore I send you a little work of mine that hath
begun to pass the world. They tell me my Latin is turned
into silver, and become current : had you been here, you should
have been my inquisitor before it came forth ; but, I think, the
greatest inquisitor in Spain will allow it. But one thing you
must pardon me if I make no haste to believe, that the world
^should be grown to such an ecstasy as to reject truth in philoso-
phy, because the author dissenteth in religion ; no more than
they do by Aristotle or Averroes. My great work goeth for-
ward ; and after my manner, I alter even when I add ; so that
nothing is finished till all bo finished. This I have written in
the midst of a terra and parliament ; thinking no time so pos-
sessed, but t'.iat I should talk of these matters with so good
and dear a friend. And so with my wonted wishes I leave
you to God's goodness.

" From Gray's Inn, Feb. 27, IGIO."

And in his letter to Father Fulgentio, giving some
account of his writings, he says : " M}' Essa3's will not
only be enlarged in number, but still more in substance.
Along with thorn goes the little piece De Sapientia
Veterum."

In the Advancement of Learning he saj's : —

" There remaineth yet another use of poesy parabolical,
opposite to that which we hist mentioned ; for that tendctli

PREFACE. XXV

to demonstrate and illustrate that which is taught or deliv-
ered, and this other to retire and obscure it ; that is, when the
secrets and mysteries of religion, policy, or philosophy are in-
volved in fables or parables. Of this in divine poesy we see
the use is authorized. lu heathen poesy we see the exposition
of fables doth fall out sometimes with great felicity ; as in the
fable that the giants being overthrown in their war agamst
the gods, the earth, their mother, in revenge thereof brought
forth Fame, —

Illam Terra parens, ir& irritata Deorum,
Extremam, ut perhibent, Cceo EnceUtdoque sororem
Progenuit,

expounded, that when princes and monarchs have suppressed
actual and open rebels, then the malignity of the people, which
is the mother of rebellion, doth bring forth libels and slanders,
and taxations of the State, which is of the same kind with
rebellion, but more feminine. So in the fable, that the rest
of the gods ha^^ng conspired to bind Jupiter, Pallas chilled
Briareus, with his Imndred hands, to his aid ; expounded, that
monarchies need not fear any curbing of their absoluteness by
mighty subjects, as brag as by wisdom they keep the hearts
of the people, who will be sure to come in on their side. So
in the fable, that Achilles was brought up under Chiron, the
centaur, who was part a man and part a beast, expounded
ingeniously, but corruptly by Machiavel, that it belongeth to
the education and discipline of princes to know as well how
to play the part of the lion in violence, and the fox in guile,
as of the man in virtue and justice. Nevertheless, in many
the like encounters, I do rather think that the fable was first,
and the exposition then devised, than that the moral was
first, and thereupon the fable framed. For I find it was an
ancient vanity in Chrysippus, that troubled himself with great
contention to fasten the assertions of the stoics upon the fic-
tious of the ancient poets ; but yet that all the fables and
fictions of the poets were but pleasure, and not figure, 1

xxvi PREFACE.

interpose no opinion. Surely, of those poets wtich are Tio\f
extant, even Homer himself (notwithstanding he was made a
kind of Scripture by the latter schools of the Grecians), yet I
should without any difficulty pronounce that his fables had no
such inwardness in his own meaning; but what they might
have upon a more original tradition, is not ea«y to affirm ; for
he was not the inventor of many of them."

In the treatise J)e Augmentis the same sentiments
will be found, with a slight alteration in the expres-
sions. He says : —

" There is another use of parabolical poesy opposite to the
former, which tendeth to the folding up of those things, the
dignity whereof deserves to he retired and distinguished, as
with a drawn curtain ; that is, when the secrets and mysteries
of religion, pohcy, and philosophy are veiled and invested with
fables and parables. But whether there be any mystical sense
couched under the ancient fables of the poets, may admit some
doubt ; and, indeed, for our part, we incline to this opinion,
as to think that there was an infused mystery in many of the
ancient fables of the poets. Neither doth it move us that these
matters are left commonly to school-boys and grammarians,
and so are embased, that we should therefore make a slight
judgment upon them, but contrariwise, because it is clear that
the writings which recite those fables, of all the writings of
men, next to sacred writ, are the most ancient; and that the
fables themselves are far more ancient than they (being they
are alleged by those writers, not as excogitated by them, but
as credited and rccepted before) seem to be, like a thin rarefied
air, which, from the traditions of more ancient nations, fell into
the flutes of the Grecians."

Of this tract, Archbishop Tenison, in his JBaconiana,
Baj's : —

PREFACE. xxvii

" In the seventh place, I may reckon his book De Sapientia
Veterum, written by him in Latin, and set forth a second time
with enlargement ; and translated into English by Sir Arthur
Gorges ; a book in which the sages of former times are ren-
dered more wise than it may be they were, by so dexterous an
interpreter of their fables. It is this book which Mr. Sandys
means, in those words which he hath put before his notes on the
Metamorphosis of Ovid. * Of modem writers, I have received
the greatest light from Geraldus, Pontanus, Ficinus, Vives,
Comes, Scaliger, Sabinus, Pierius, and the crown of the lat-
ter, the Viscount of St. Albans.'

" It is true, the design of this book was instruction in natu-
ral and civil matters, either couched by the ancients under
those fictions, or rather made to seem to be so by his lord-
ship's wit, in the opening and applying of them. But because
the first ground of it is poetical story, therefore, let it have this
place tiU a fitter be found for it."

The author of Bacon's Life, inthe £iographia Britan-

nica, says : —

" That he might relieve himself a little fi-om the severity of
these studies, and, as it were, amuse himself with erecting a
magnificent pavilion, while his great palace of philosophy was
building, he composed and sent abroad, in 1610, his celebrated
treatise of the Wisdom of the Ancients, in which he showed
that none had studied them more closely, was better acquainted
with their beauties, or had pierced deeper into their meaning.
There have been very few books pubUshed, either in this or
any other nation, which either deserved or met with more gen-
eral applause than this, and scarce any that are like to retain
it longer, for in this performance Sir Francis Bacon gave a
singular proof of his capacity to please all parties in literature,
as in his political conduct he stood fair with all the parties
in the nation. The admirers of antiquity were charmed with
this discourse, which seems expressly calculated to justify their

xxviii PREFACE.

admiration ; and, on the other hand, their opposites were no
less pleased with a piece from which they thought they could
demonstrate that the sagacity of a modem genius had found
out much better meanings for the ancients than ever were
meant by them."

And Mallet, in his Life of Bacon, says : —

" In 1610 he published another treatise, entitled. Of the
Wisdom of the Ancients. This work bears the same stamp
of an original and inventive genius with his other perform-
ances. Resolving not to tread in the steps of those who had
gone before him, men, according to his own expression, not
learned beyond certain commonplaces, he strikes out a new
tract for himself, and enters into the most secret recesses of
this wild and shadowy region, so as to appear new on a known
and beaten subject. Upon the whole, if we cannot bring our-
selves readily to believe that there is all the physical, moral,
and political meaning veiled under those fables of antiquity,
which he has discovered in them, we must own that it required
no common penetration to be mistaken with so great an appear-
ance of probability on his side. Though it still remains doubt-
ful whether the ancients were so knowing as he attempts to
show they were, the variety and depth of his own knowledge
are, in that very attempt, unquestionable."

In the year 1619 this tract was translated by Sir
Arthur Gorges. Prefixed to the work are two letters ;
the one to the Earl /of Salisbury, the other to the Uni-
versity of Cambridge, which Gorges omits, and dedi-
cates his translation to the high and illustrious princess
the Lady EUzabeth of Great Britain, Duchess of Baviare,
Countess Palatine of Rheine, and chief electress of the
empire.

This translation, it should be noted, was published

during

works.

The

are : —

Year.
1609
1617
1618
1619
1620
1633
1634
1638
1691
1804

PREFACE. xxix

the life of Lord Bacon by a great admirer of his

editions of this work with which I am acquainted

Language.

Latin,
((

Italian,

English,
«

Latin,

French,

Printer.
R. Barker,
J. Bill,
G. BiU,
J. Bill,

F. Maire,
F. Kingston,
E. Griffin,
H. Wetstein,
H. Fran tin.

Place.
London,

Lug. Bat.,

London,
(<

Amsterdam,
Dijon,

Size.
12mo.

Folio.
12mo.
8vo.

NOTICE

FRANCIS BACON.

Francis Bacon, the subject of the following
memoir, was the youngest son of highly remarkable
parents. His father. Sir Nicholas Bacon, was an
eminent lawyer, and for twenty years Keeper of the
Seals and Privy Counsellor to Queen Elizabeth. Sir
Nicholas was styled by Camden sacris conciliis alte-
rum columen ; he was the author of some unpub-
lished discourses on law and politics, and of a
commentary on the minor prophets. He discharged
the duties of his high office with exemplary pro-
priety and wisdom ; he preserved through life the
integrity of a good man, and the moderation and
simplicity of a great one. He had inscribed over
the entrance of his hall, at Gorhambury, the motto,
mediocria Jirma ; and when the Queen, in a progress,
paid him a visit there, she remarked to him that his
house was too small for him. " Madam," answered
the Lord Keeper, "my house is well, but it is you

2 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

that have made me too great for my house." This
anecdote has been preserved by his son,^ who, had
he as carefully retained the lesson of practical wis-
dom it contained, might have avoided the misfor-
tunes and sorrows of his checkered life.

Bacon's mother, Anne Cooke, was the daughter
of Sir Anthony Cooke, tutor to King Edward the
Sixth ; like the young ladies of her time, like Lady
Jane Grey, like Queen Elizabeth, she received an
excellent classical education ; her sister, Lady Bur-
leigh, was pronounced by Roger Ascham, Queen
Elizabeth's preceptor, to be, with the exception of
Lady Jane Grey, the best Greek scholar among the
young women of England.^ Anne Cooke, the future
Lady Bacon, corresponded in Greek with Bishop
Jewel, and translated from the Latin this divine's
Apologia ; a task which she performed so well that
it is said the good prelate could not discover an
inaccuracy or suggest an alteration. She also trans-
lated from the Italian a volume of sermons on fate
and freewill, written by Bernardo Ochino, an Italian
reformer. Francis Bacon, the youngest of five sons,

^ Bacon's Apophthegms.

2 It is not surprising that ladies then received an education
rare in our own times. It should be remembered that in the
sixteentli century Latin was the language of courts and schools,
of diplomacy, politics, and theology ; it was the universal lan-
guage, and there was then no literature in the inodei-n tongues,
except the Italian ; indeed all knowledge, ancient and modem,
was conveyed to the world in the language of the ancients. The
great productions of Athens and Rome were the intellectual all of
our ancestors down to the middle of the sixteenth century.

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 3

inherited the classical learning and taste of both his
parents.

He was bom at York House, in the Strand, Lon-
don, on the 22d of January, 1560-61. His health,
when he was a boy, was delicate ; a circumstance
which may perhaps account for his early love of
sedentary pursuits, and probably the early gravity
of his demeanor. Queen Elizabeth, he tells us,
took particular delight in "trying him with ques-
tions," when he was quite a child, and was so much
pleased with the sense and manliness of his answers
that she used jocularly to call him " her young Lord
Keeper of the Seals." Bacon himself relates that
while he was a boy, the Queen once asked him his
age ; the precocious courtier readily replied that he
" was just two years younger than her happy reign."
He is said, also, when very young, to have stolen
away from his playfellows in order to investigate
the cause of a singular echo in St. James's Fields,
which attracted his attention.

Until the age of thirteen he remained under the
tuition of his accomplished mother, aided by a pri-
vate tutor only; under their care he attained the
elements of the classics, that education preliminary
to the studies of the University. At thirteen he
was sent to Trinity College, Cambridge, where his
father had been educated. Here he studied dili-
gently the great models of antiquity, mathematics,
and philosophy, worshipped, however, but indevoutly
at the shrine of Aristotle, whom, according to Raw-

4 NOTICE OF FKANCIS BACON.

ley, his chaplain and biographer, he already derided
" for the unfruitfidness of the way, — being only
strong for disputation, but barren of the production
of works for the life of man." He remained three
years at this seat of learning, without, however,
taking a degree at his departure.

When he was but sixteen years old he began his
travels, the indispensable end of every finished edu-
cation in England. He repaired to Paris, where he
resided some time under the care of Sir Amyas Paulet,
the English minister at the court of France.

Here he invented an ingenious method of writing
in cipher ; an art which he probably cultivated with
a view to a diplomatic career.

He visited several of the provinces of France and
of the towns of Italy. Italy was then the country
in which human knowledge in all its branches was
most successfully cultivated. It is related by Signor
Cancellieri that Bacon, when at Rome, presented
himself as a candidate to the Academy of the Lincei,
and was not admitted.^ He remained on the conti-
nent for three years, until his father's death, in 1580.
The melancholy event, which bereft him of his
parent, at the age of nineteen, was fatal to his pros-
pects. His father had intended to purchase an es-
tate for his youngest son, as he had done for his
other sons; but he dying before this intention was

1 Prospetto delle Memorie aneddote dei Liiuxi da F. Cancellieri.
Koma, 1823. This fact is quoted by Monsieur Cousin, in a note to
his Fragments de Philoaophie Cartisicnne.

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 5

realized, the money was equally divided between
all the children; so that Francis inherited but one
fifth of that fortune intended for him alone. He
was the only one of the sons that was left unprovided
for. He had now "to study to live," instead of
" living to study." He wished, to use his own lan-
guage, "to become a true pioneer in that mine of
truth which lies so deep." He applied to the gov-
ernment for a provision which his father's interest
would easily have secured him, and by which he
might dispense with a profession. The Queen must
have looked with favor upon the son of a minister,
who had served her faithfully for twenty long years,
and upon a young man whom, when he was a child,
she had caressed, she had distinguished by the appel-
lation of her "young Lord Keeper." But Francis
Bacon was abandoned, and perhaps opposed by the
colleague and nearest friend of his father, the brother-
in-law of his mother, his maternal uncle. Lord Bur-
leigh, then Prime Minister, who feared for his son
the rivalry of his all-talented nephew. It is a trick
common to envy and detraction, to convert a man's
very qualities into their concomitant defects; and
because Bacon was a great thinker, he was repre-
sented as unfit for the active duties of business, as
" a man rather of show than of depth," as " a specu-
lative man, indulging himself in philosophical rever-
ies, and calculated more to perplex than to promote
public business." ^ Thus was the future ornament

1 Sir Robert Cecil.

6 NOTICE OP FRANCIS BACON.

of his country and of mankind sacrificed to Robert,
afterwards Sir Robert Cecil, Earl of Salisbury, of
whose history fame has learned but little, save the
execution of Essex and Mary Queen of Scots, the
name, and this petty act of mean jealousy of his
father ! In the disposal of patronage and place, acts
and even motives of this species are not so unfre-
quent as the world would appear to imagine. In
all ages, it is to be feared, many and great, as in
Shakspeare's time, are,

the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes.

It is, however, but justice to the morals of Lord
Burleigh, to add that he was insensible to literary
merit; he thought a hundred pounds too great a
reward to be given to Spenser for what he termed
"an old song," for so he denominated the Faery
Queen.

Bacon then selected the law as his profession ;
and in 1580 he was entered of Gray's Inn;^ he
resisted the temptations of his companions and
friends, (for his company was much courted), and
diligently pursued the study he had chosen ; but he
did not at this time entirely lose sight of his philo-
sophical speculations, for he then published his Tem-
poris partus maximus, or The Greatest Birth of Time.
This work, notwithstanding its pompous title, was
unnoticed or rather fell stillborn from the press ; the

* Gray's Inn is one of the four Inns or companies for the study
of law.

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 7

sole trace of it is found in one of his letters to Father
Fulgentio.

In 1586, he was called to the bar; his practice
there appears to have been limited, although not
without success; for the Queen and the Court are
said to have gone to hear him when he was engaged
in any celebrated cause. He was, at this period of
his life, frequently admitted to the Queen's presence
and conversation. He was appointed her Majesty's
Counsel Extraordinary,^ but he had no salary and
small fees.

In 1592, his uncle, the Lord Treasurer, procured
for him the reversion of the registrarship of the Star
Chamber, worth sixteen hundred pounds (forty thou-
sand francs) a year; but the office did not become
vacant till twenty years after, so that, as Bacon
justly observes, "it might mend his prospects, but
did not fill his barns."

A parliament was summoned in 1593, and Bacon
was returned to the House of Commons, for the
County of Middlesex ; he distinguished himself here
as a speaker. "The fear of every man who heard
him," says his contemporary, Ben Jonson, " was
lest he should make an end." He made, however,
on one occasion a speech which much displeased
the Queen and Court. Elizabeth directed the Lord

1 King's or Queen's Counsel are barristers that plead for the
government ; they receive fees but no salary ; the first were
appointed in the reign of Charles II. Queen's Counsel extraordi-
nary was a title peculiar to Bacon, granted, as the patent specially
states, honoris caxisa.

8 NOTICE OF FKANCIS BACON.

Keeper to intimate to him that he must expect
neither favor nor promotion ; the repentant courtier
replied in writing, that "her Majesty's favor was
dearer to him than his life." ^

lu the following year the situation of Solicitor-
General 2 became vacant. Bacon ardently aspired to
it. He applied successively to Lord Burleigh, his
uncle, to Lord Puckering, his father's successor, to
the Earl of Essex, their rival, and finally to the Queen
herself, accompanying his letters, as was the custom
of the times, with a present, a jewel.^ But once
more he saw mediocrity preferred, and himself rejected.
A Serjeant Fleming was appointed her INIajesty's
Solicitor-General. Bacon, overwhelmed by this dis-
appointment, wished to retire from public life, and to
reside abroad. " I hoped," said he in a letter to Sir
Robert Cecil, " her Majesty would not be offended
that, not able to endure the sun, I fled into the shade."

The Earl of Essex, whose mind, says Mr. Ma-
caulay, " naturally disposed to admiration of all that

1 Letter to Lord Burleigh.

2 The Solicitor-General is a law-officer inferior in rank to the
Attorney-General, with whom he is associated in the manage-
ment of the law business of the crown. He pleads also for pri-
vate individuals, but not against government. He has a suiall
salary, but very considerable fees. The salary in Bacon's time
was but seventy pounds.

' Bacon was, like other courtiers, in the habit of presenting
the Queen with a New Year's gift. On one occasion, it was a
white satin petticoat embroidered with snakes and fniitage, as
emblems of wisdom and beauty. The donors varied in rank from
the Lord Keeper down to the dust-man.

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 9

is great and beautiful, was fascinated by the genius
and the accomplishments of Bacon," ^ had exerted
every effort in Bacon's behalf; to use his own lan-
guage, he "spent all his power, might, authority,
and amity ; " he now sought to indemnify him, and,
with royal munificence, presented him with an estate
of the value of nearly two thousand pounds, a sum
worth perhaps four or five times the amount in the
money of our days. If anything could enhance the
benefaction, it was the delicacy with which it was
conferred, or, as Bacon himself expresses it, "with
so kind and noble circumstances as the manner was
worth more than the matter."

Bacon published his Essays in 1597 ; he considered
them but as the "recreations of his other studies."
The idea of them was probably first suggested by
Montaigne's Essais, but there is little resemblance
between the two works beyond the titles. The
first edition contained but ten Essays, which were
shorter than they now are. The work was reprinted
in 1598, with little or no variation; again in 1606;
and in 1612 there was a fourth edition, etc. How-
ever, he afterwards, he says, "enlarged it both in
number and weight;" but it did not assume its
present form until the ninth edition, in 1625, that
is, twenty-eight years after its first publication, and
one year before the death of the author. It ap-
peared under the new title of The Essaies or Covn-
sels Oivill and Morall, of Francis Lo, Vervlam,

1 Essays.

iO NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

Viscovnt St. Alban. Newly enlarged. This is not
followed by the Religious Meditations, Places of
Perswasion and Disswasion, seene and allowed. The
Essays were soon translated into Italian with the title
of Saggi Morali del Signore Francesco Bacons, Cav-
agliero Inglese, Gran Cancelliero d' Inghilterra.
This translation was dedicated to Cosmo de Medici,
Grand Duke of Tuscany ; and was reprinted in Lon-
don in 1618. Of the three Essays added after
Bacon's decease, two of them, Of a King and Of
Death, are not genuine ; the Fragment of an Essay
on Fame alone is Bacon's.

In this same year (1597) he again took his seat
in Parliament. He soon made ample amends for
his opposition speech in the previous session ; but
this time he gained the favor of the Court with-
out forfeiting his popularity in the House of
Commons.

He now thought of strengthening his interest, or
increasing his fortune, by a matrimonial connection ;
and he sought the hand of a rich widow. Lady
Hatton, his second cousin ; but here he was again
doomed to disappointment; a preference was given
to his old rival, the Attorney-General, Sir Edward
Coke, notwithstanding the "seven objections to
him — his six children and himself." But although
Bacon was perhaps unaware of it, the rejection of
his suit was one of the happiest events of his life ;
for the eccentric manners and violent temper of the
lady rendered her a torment to all around her, and

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 11

probably most of all to her husband. In reality,
as has been wittily observed, the lady was doubly
kind to him; "she rejected him, and she accepted
his enemy."

Another mortification awaited him at this period.
A relentless creditor, a usurer, had him arrested for
a debt of three hundred pounds, and he was con-
veyed to a spunging-house, where he was confined
for a few days, until arrangements could be made
to satisfy the claim or the claimant.

We now arrive at a painfully sad point in the life
of Bacon ; a dark foul spot, which should be hidden
forever, did not history, like the magistrate of Egypt
that interrogated the dead, demand that the truth,
the whole truth, should be told.

We have seen that between Bacon and the Earl
of Essex, all was disinterested affection on the part
of the latter; the Earl employed his good offices
for him, exerted heart and soul to insure his success
as Solicitor-General, and, on Bacon's failure, con-
ferred on him a princely favor, a gift of no ordinary
value.

When Essex's fortunes declined, and the Earl fell
into disgrace. Bacon endeavored to mediate between
the Queen and her favorite. The case became hope-
less. Essex left his command in Ireland without
leave, was ordered in confinement, and after a long
imprisonment and trial before the Privy Council, he
was liberated. Irritated by the refusal of a favor
he solicited, he was betrayed into reflections on the

12 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

Queen's age and person, which were never to be
forgiven, and he engaged in a conspiracy to seize
on the Queen, and to settle a new plan of govern-
ment. On the failure of this attempt, he was ar-
rested, committed to the Tower, and brought to trial
for high treason before the House of Peers. During
his long captivity, who does not expect to see Bacon,
his friend, a frequent visitor in his cell? Before
the two tribunals, can we fail to meet Bacon, his
counsel, at his side? We trace Bacon at Court,
where, he assures us, after Elizabeth's death, that
he endeavored to appease and reconcile the Queen ;
but the place was too distant from the prison : for
he never visited there his fallen friend.

At the first trial, Bacon did indeed make his ap-
pearance, but as " her Majesty's Counsel extraordi-
nary," not for the defence, but for the prosecution
of the prisoner. But he may be expected at least
to have treated him leniently? He admits he did
not, on account, as he tells us, of the "superior
duty he owed to the Queen's fame and honor in a
public proceeding." But hitherto, the Earl's liberty
alone had been endangered ; now, his life is at stake.
Do not the manifold favors, the munificent benefac-
tions all arise in the generous mind of Bacon ? Does
he not waive all thought of interest and promotion
and worldly honor to devote himself wholly to the
sacred task of saving his patron, benefactor, and
friend? Her Majesty's Counsel extraordinary ap-
peared in the place of the Solicitor-General, to reply

NOTICE OF FKANCIS BACON. 13

to Essex's defence; he compared the accused first
to Cain, then to Pisistratus. The Earl made a
pathetic appeal to his judges; Bacon showed he
had not answered his objections, and compared him
to the Duke of Guise, the most odious comparison
he could have instituted. Essex was condemned ;
the Queen wavered in her resolution to execute
him; his friend's intercession might perhaps have
been able to save Essex from an ignominious death.
Did Bacon, in his turn, " spend all his power, might,
and amity?" The Queen's Counsel extraordinary
might have offended his sovereign by his importu-
nity, and have been forgotten in the impending
vacancy of the office of Solicitor- General ! Essex
died on the scaflfold. But the execution rendered
the Queen unpopular, and she was received with
mournful silence when she appeared in public. She
ordered a pamphlet to be written to justify the exe-
cution ; she made choice of Bacon as the writer ;
the courtier did not decline the task, but published
A Declaration of the Practices and Treasons at-
tempted and committed by Robert, late Earle of Es-
sex and his Complices, against her Maiestie and her
Kingdoms. This faithless friend, to use the lan-
guage of Macaulay, " exerted his professional talents
to shed the Earl's blood, and his literary talents to
blacken the Earl's memory."

The memory of Essex suffered but little from the
attack of the pamphlet ; the base pamphleteer's mem-
ory is blackened forever, and to his fair name of "the

14 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

wisest, brightest," has been appended the " meanest
of mankind." But let us cast a pall over this act,
this moral murder, perpetrated by the now degraded
orator, degraded philosopher, the now most degraded
of men.

Elizabeth died in 1601 ; and before the arrival
of James, in England, Bacon wrote him a pedantic
letter, probably to gratify the taste of the pedant
king; but he did not forget in it, "his late dear
sovereign Mistress — a princess happy in all things,
but most happy — in such a successor."

Bacon solicited the honor of knighthood, a dis-
tinction much lavished at this period. At the King's
coronation, he knelt down in company with above
three hundred gentlemen; but "he rose Sir Fran-
cis." He sought the hand of a rich alderman's
daughter, Miss Bamham, who consented to become
Lady Bacon.

The Earl of Southampton, Shakspeare's generous
patron and friend, who had been convicted of high
treason in the late reign, now received the King's
pardon. This called to all men's minds the fate of
the unhappy Earl of Essex, and of his odiously un-
grateful accuser; the latter unadvisedly published
the Sir Francis Bacon, his Apologie in certaine
imputations concerning the late Earle of Essex; a
defence which, in the estimation of one of his bio-
graphers, Lord Campbell, has injured him more with
posterity than all the attacks of his enemies.

Id the new Parliament, he represented the borough

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 15

of Ipswich ; he spoke frequently, and obtained the
good graces of the King by the support he gave
to James's favorite plan of a union of England and
Scotland; a measure by no means palatable to the
King's new subjects.

The object of all his hopes, the price, perhaps,
of his conduct to Essex, seemed in 1606 to be within
his reach ; but he was once more to be disappointed.
His old enemy, Sir Edward Coke, prevented the
vacancy. The following year, however, after long
and humiliating solicitation, he attained the office to
which he had so long aspired, and was appointed
Solicitor-General to the Crown.

Official advancement was now the object nearest
his heart, and he longed to be Attorney-General.^

In 1613, by a master stroke of policy, he created
a vacancy for himself as Attorney-General, and man-
aged at the same time to disserve his old enemy.
Coke, by getting him preferred in rank, but at the
expense of considerable pecuniary loss.

After his new appointment, he was reelected to
his seat in the House of Commons; he had gained

^ The Attorney-General is the public prosecutor on behalf of the
Crown, where the state is actually and not nominally the prose-
cutor. He pleads also as a barrister in private causes, provided
they are not against the government. As he receives a fee for
every case in which the government is concerned, his emoluments
are considerable ; but he has no salary. His official position
secures to him the best practice at the bar. The salary was, in
Bacon's time, but 811. 6s. 8d. per annum; but the situation yielded
him six thousand pounds yearly.

16 NOTICE OF FKANCIS BACON.

BO much popularity there, that the House admitted
him, although it resolved to exclude future Attor-
neys-General; a resolution rescinded by later Par-
liaments.

The Attorney-General, as may be supposed, did
not lack zeal in his master's service and for his
master's prerogative. One case, in particular, was
atrocious. An aged clergyman, named Peacham,
was prosecuted for high treason for a sermon which
he had neither preached nor published ; the unfortu-
nate old man was apprehended, put to the torture
in presence of the Attorney-General, and as the latter
himself tells us, was examined "before torture, be-
tween torture, and after torture," although Bacon
must have been fully aware that the laws of Eng-
land did not sanction torture to extort confession.
Bacon tampered with the judges, and obtained a
conviction ; but the government durst not carry the
sentence into execution. Peacham languished in
prison till the ensuing year, when Pro\ddence res-
cued him from the hands of human justice.

In 1616, Bacon was offered the formal promise
of the Chancellorship, or an actual appointment as
Privy Councillor ; he was too prudent not to prefer
an appointment to a promise, and he was accord-
ingly nominated to the functions of member of the
Privy Council. His present leisure enabled him to
prosecute vigorously his Novum Organum, but he
turned aside to occupy himself with a proposition
for the amendment of the laws of England, on which

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 17

Lord Campbell, assuredly the most competent of
judges, passes a high encomium.

At length, in 1617, Sir Francis Bacon attained
the end of the ambition of his life, he became Lord
Keeper of the Seals, with the functions, though not
the title, of Lord High Chancellor of England. His
promotion to this dignity gave general satisfaction ;
his own university, Cambridge, congi'atulated him;
Oxford imitated the example ; the world expected
a perfect judge, formed from his own model in his
Essay of Judicature. He took his seat in the Court
of Chancery with the utmost pomp and parade.

The Lord Keeper now endeavored to "feed fat
the ancient grudge" he bore Coke. He deprived
him of the office of Chief Justice, and erased his
name from the list of privy councillors. Coke im-
agined a plan of raising his falling fortunes; he
projected a marriage between his daughter by his
second wife, a very rich heiress, and Sir John Vil-
liers, the brother of Buckingham, the King's favorite.
Bacon was alarmed, wrote to the King, and used
expressions of disparagement towards the favorite,
his new patron, to whom he was indebted for the
Seals he held. The King and his minion were
equally indignant ; and they did not conceal from
him their resentment. On the return of the court.
Bacon hastened to the residence of Buckingham ;
being denied admittance, he waited two whole days
in the ante-chamber with the Great Seal of England
in his hand. When at length he obtained access,

18 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

the Lord Keeper threw himself and the Great Seal
on the ground, kissed the favorite's feet, and vowed
never to rise till he was forgiven ! It must after
this have been difficult indeed for him to rise again
in the world's esteem or his own.

Bacon was made to purchase at a dear price his
reinstatement in the good graces of Buckingham.
The favorite constantly wrote to the judge in behalf
of one of the parties, and in the end, says Lord
Campbell, intimated that he was to dictate the de-
cree. Nor did Bacon once remonstrate against this
unwarrantable interference on the part of the man
to whom he had himself recommended " by no means
to interpose himself, either by word or letter in any
cause depending on any court of justice." The Lord
Keeper received soon after, in 1618, the reward of
his "many faithful sei-vices" by the higher title of
Lord High Chancellor of England, and by the peer-
age with the name of Baron of Verulam.

The new Minister of Justice lent himself with his
wonted complaisance to a most outrageous act of
injustice, which Macaulay stigmatizes as a " das-
tardly murder," that of the execution of Sir Walter
Raleigh, under a sentence pronounced sixteen years
before ; Sir Walter having been in the interval in-
vested with the high command of Admiral of the
fleet. Such an act it was the imperative duty of
the first magistrate of the realm not to promote, but
to resist to the full extent of his power; and the
Chancellor alone could issue the warrant for the
execution !

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 19

In 1620, he published what is usually considered
his greatest work, his Novum Organum (New In-
strument or Method), which forms the second part
of the Instauratio Magna (Great Restoration of the
Sciences). This work had occupied Bacon's leisure
for nearly thirty years. Such was the care he be-
stowed on it, that Rawley, his chaplain and biogi-a-
pher, states that he had seen about twelve autograph
copies of it, corrected and improved mitil it assumed
the shape in which it appeared. Previous to the
publication of the Novum Organum, says the illus-
trious Sir John Herschel, "natural philosophy, in
any legitimate and extensive sense of the word, could
hardly be said to exist." ^

It cannot be expected that a work destined com-
pletely to change the state of science, we had almost
said of nature, should not be assailed by that preju-
dice which is ever ready to raise its loud but unmean-
ing voice against whatever is new, how great or good
soever it may be. Bacon's doctrine was accused of
being calculated to produce " dangerous revolutions,"
to "subvert governments and the authority of re-
ligion." Some called on the present age and pos-
terity to rise high in their resentment against "the
Bacon-faced generation," for so were the experiment-
alists termed. The old cry of irreligion, nay, even
of atheism, was raised against the man who had
said : " I would rather believe all the fables in the
Legend, and the Talmud, and the Alcoran, than that

1 Preliminary Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy.

20 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

this universal frame is without a mind." ^ But Bacon
had to encounter the prejudices even of the learned.
CufFe, the Earl of Essex's secretary, a man celebrated
for his attainments, said of the Instauratio Magna,
" a fool could not have written such a book, and a
wise man would not." King James said, it was
"like the peace of God, that surpasseth all under-
standing." And even Harvey, the discoverer of the
circulation of the blood, said to Aubrey : " Bacon is
no great philosopher; he writes philosophy like a
Lord Chancellor." Rawley, his secretary and his
biographer, laments, some years after his friend's
death, that " his fame is greater and sounds louder
in foreign parts abroad than at home in his own
nation ; thereby verifying that divine sentence : A
prophet is not without honor, save in his own coun-
try and in his own house." Bacon was for some
time without honor " in his own country and in his
own house." But truth on this, as on all other
occasions, triumphs in the end. Bacon's assailants
are forgotten ; Bacon will be remembered with grati-
tude and veneration forever.

He was again, in 1621, promoted in the peerage
to be Viscount Saint-Albans ; his patent particularly
celebrating his "integrity in the administration of
justice."

In this same year the Parliament assembled. The
House of Commons first voted the subsidies de-
manded by the Crown, and next proceeded, as was

* Essay xvi.

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 21

usual in those times, to the redress of grievances.
A committee of the House was appointed to inquire
into "the abuses of Courts of Justice." A report
of this committee charged the Lord Chancellor with
corruption, and specified two cases ; in the first of
which Aubrey, a suitor in his court, stated that he
had presented the Lord Chancellor with a hundred
pounds; and Egerton, another suitor in his court,
with four hundred pounds in addition to a former
piece of plate of the value of fifty pounds ; in both
cases decisions had been given against the parties
whose presents had been received. (Lord Campbell
asserts that in the case of Egerton both parties had
made the Chancellor presents.)^ His enemies, it is
said, estimated his illicit gains at a hundred thou-
sand pounds ; a statement which, it is more than
probable, is greatly exaggerated.^ "I never had,"
said Bacon in his defence, " bribe or reward in my
eye or thought when I pronounced sentence or
order." This is an acknowledgment of the fact,
and perhaps an aggravation of the offence. He

1 Decisions being given against the parties is no proof of un-
corraptness ; it is always the party who loses his suit that com-
plains ; the gainer receives the price of his bribe, and is silent.

2 The exactions of his servants appear to have been very great ;
their indulgence in every kind of extravagance, and the lavish
profuseness of his own expenses, were the principal causes of his
ruin. Mallet relates that one day, during the investigation into
his conduct, the Chancellor passed through a room where several
of his servants were sitting ; as they arose from their seats to greet
him, "Sit down, my masters," exclaimed he, " your rise hath been
my fall."

22 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

then addressed " an humble submission " to the
House, a kind of general admission, in which he
invoked as a plea of excuse vitia temporis.

How widely different from this is his own lan-
guage ! It is fair justice to appeal from the judge
to the tribunal of the philosopher and moralist ; it
is appealing from Philip drunk to Philip sober;
unhappily it is likewise

to have the engineer
Hoist with his own petar.

He says, in his Essay of Great Place: "For cor-
ruption : do not only bind thine own hands, or thy
servant's hands from taking, but bind the hands of
suitors from offering. For integrity used doth the
one ; but integrity professed, and with a manifest
detestation of bribery, doth the other; and avoid
not only the fault, but the suspicion." ^ He says
again, in the same Essay: "Set it down to thyself,
as well to create good precedents as to follow
them."

But the allegation that it was a custom of the
times requires examination. It was a custom of
the times in reality to make presents to superiors.
Queen Elizabeth received them as New Year's gifts
from functionaries of all ranks, fi'om her prime min-
ister down to Charles Smith, the dust-man (see note
1, page 7), and this custom probably continued under
her successor, and may have been applied to other
high functionaries, but it does not appear to have

1 Essay xL

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 23

been in legitimate use in the courts of judicature.
Coke, himself Chief Justice, was Bacon's principal
accuser; and, although an enemy, he has been said
to have conducted himself with moderation and pro-
priety on this occasion only. Lord Campbell, Chief
Justice of the Court of Queen's Bench, and author
of the Lives of the Chancellors and Chief Justices of
England^ repels the plea, as inadmissible. It cannot
be denied that if Bacon extended the practice to the
courts of justice, he has heaped coals of fire on
his head; for applied to his own case personally it
would be sufficiently odious ; but what odium would
not that man deserve who should systematize, nay,
legitimize a practice that must inevitably poison the
stream of justice at its fountain-head ! What execra^
tion could be too great, if that man were the most
intelligent, the wisest of his century, one of the most
dignified in rank in the land, clad in spotless ermine,
the emblem of purity, in short, the Minister of Justice !
The Lords resolved that Bacon should be called
upon to put in a particular answer to each of the
special charges preferred against him. The formal
articles with proofs in support were communicated
to him. The House received the " confession and
humble submission of me, the Lord Chancellor."
In this document, Bacon acknowledges himself to
be guilty of corruption ; and in reply to each special
charge admits in evciy instance the receipt of money
or valuable things from the suitors in his court ; but
alleging in some cases that it was after judgment,

24 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

or as New Year's gifts, a custom of the times, or for
prior services. A committee of nine temporal and
three spiritual lords was appointed to ascertain
whethOT it was he who had subscribed this docu-
ment. The committee repaired to his residence,
were received in the hall where he had been accus-
tomed to sit as judge, and merely asked him if the
signature affixed to the paper they exhibited to him
was his. He passionately exclaimed: "My lords,
it is my act, my hand, my heart. I beseech your
lordships to be merciful to a broken reed." The
committee withdrew, overwhelmed with grief at the
sight of such greatness so fallen.

Four commissioners dispatched by the King de-
manded the Great Seal of the Chancellor, confined
to his bed by sickness and sorrow and want of sus-
tenance; for he refused to take any food. He hid
his face in his hand, and delivered up that Great
Seal for the attainment of which he "had sullied
his integrity, had resigned his independence, had
violated the most sacred obligations of friendship
and gratitude, had flattered the worthless, had per-
secuted the innocent, had tampered with judges,
had tortured prisoners, had plundered suitors, had
wasted on paltry intrigues all the powers of the
most exquisitely constructed intellect that has ever
been bestowed on any of the children of men." ^

All this he did to be Lord High Chancellor of
England ; and, had he not been the unworthy min-

1 Macaulay'a Essays.

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 25

ister of James, he might have been, to use the
beautiful language of Hallam, "the high-priest of
nature."

On the 3d of May, he was unanimously declared
to be guilty, and he was sentenced to a fine of forty
thousand pounds, to be imprisoned in the Tower
during the King's pleasure, to be incapable of hold-
ing any public oflBce, and of sitting in Parliament
or of coming within the verge of the court.^ Such
was the sentence pronounced on the man whom
three months before the King delighted to honor for
" his integrity in the administration of justice."

The fatal verdict affected his health so materially
that the judgment could not receive immediate exe-
cution; he could not be conveyed to the Tower
until the 31st of May; the following day he was
liberated. He repaired to tlie house of Sir John
Vaughan, who held a situation in the prince's house-
hold.^ He wished to retire to his own residence at
York House; but this was refused. He was or-
dered to proceed to his seat at Gorhambury, whence
he was not to remove, and where he remained, though
very reluctantly, till the ensuing spring.

The heavy fine was remitted. But as he had

^ He was not, as has been erroneously supposed, stripped of hia
titles of nobility ; this was proposed ; but it was negatived by the
majority formed by means of the bishops.

* The Prince of Wales, afterwards Charles the First, was before
lie ascended the throne the patron of Bacon, who said of him in
his will, "my most gracious sovereign, who ever when he was pi-ince
was my patron."

26 NOTICE OF FKANCIS BACON.

lived in great pomp, he had economized naught from
his legitimate or ill-gotten gains. As he was now
insolvent, a pension of twelve hundred pounds a year
was bestowed on him; from his estate and other
revenues he derived thirteen hundred pounds per
annum more. On the l/th of October, his remain-
ing penalties were remitted. It cannot but strike
the reader as a most remarkable circumstance that,
within eighteen months of the condemnation, all the
penalties were successively remitted. Would this
induce the belief that he was but the scape-goat of
the court, that the condemnation was purely polit-
ical ? It is, we believe, to be explained ostensibly
by the advanced age of Bacon, but really by the
circumstance that the King's favorite, Buckingham,
was an accomplice.

Bacon discovered, alas ! when it was too late, that
the talent God had given him he had " misspent in
things for which he was least fit ; " or as Thomson
has beautifully expressed it : ^ —

Hapless in his choice,
Unfit to stand the civil stonn of state,
And through the smooth barbarity of courts.
With firm, but pliant virtue, forward still
To urge his course ; him for the studious shade
Kind Nature form'd ; deep, comprehensive, clear,
Exact, and elegant ; in one rich soul,
Plato, the Stagyrite and Tully join'd.
The gi'eat deliverer he !

It is gratifying to turn from the melancholy scenes
exhibited by the political life of Bacon, to behold him

1 The Seasons.

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 27

in his study in the deep search of truth ; no contrast
is more striking than that between the chancellor
and the philosopher, or, as Macaulay has well termed
it, " Bacon seeking for truth, and Bacon seeking for
the Seals — Bacon in speculation, and Bacon in ac-
tion." From amidst douds and darkness we emerge
into the full blaze and splendor of midday light.

We now find Bacon wholly devoting himself to
the pursuits for which nature adapted him, and from
which no extent of occupation could entirely detach
him. The author redeemed the man; in the phi-
losopher and the poet there was no weakness, no
corruption.

Nothing is here for tears ; nothing to wail

Or knock the breast ; no weakness, no contempt,

Dispraise or blame, nothing but well and fair.

Here the writer yielded not to vitia temporis ;
but combated them with might and main, with heart
and soul.

In 1623, he published the Life of Henry VII.
In a letter addressed to the Queen of Bohemia with
a copy, he says pathetically: "'Time was I had
honor without leisure, and now I have leisure with-
out honor." But his honor without leisure had
precipitated him into " bottomless perdition ; " his
leisure without honor retrieved his name, and raised
him again to an unattainable height.

In the following year, he printed his Latin tranS'
lation of the Advancement of Learning, under the
title of De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarum,

2g NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

This was not, however, a mere translation ; for
he made in it omissions and alterations ; and ap-
pears to have added about one third new matter;
in short, he remodelled it. His work, replete with
poetry and beautiful imagery, was received with
applause throughout Europe. It was reprinted in
France in 1624, one year after its appearance in
England. It was immediately translated into French
and Italian, and was published in Holland, the
great book-mart of that time, in 1646, 1650, and
1662.

In 1624, he solicited of the King a remission of
the sentence, to the end, says he, " that blot of igno-
miny may be removed from me and from my mem-
ory with posterity." The King granted him a
full pardon. But he never more took his seat in
the House of Lords. When the new Parliament
met, after the accession of Charles the First, age,
infirmity, and tardy wisdom had extinguished the
ambition of Baron Verulam, Viscount St. Albans.
When the writ of summons to the Parliament reached
him, he exclaimed: "I have done with such vani-
ties!"

But the philosopher pursued his labor of love.
He published new editions of his writings, and trans-
lated them into Latin, from the mistaken notion that
in that language alone could they be rescued from
oblivion. His crabbed latinity is now read but by
few, or even may be said to be nearly forgotten ;
while his noble, majestic English is read over the

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 29

whole British empire, on which the sun never sets,
is studied and admired throughout the old world
and tlie new, and it will be so by generations still
unborn; it will descend to posterity in company
with his contemporary, Shakspeare (whose name
he never mentions), and will endure as long as the
great and glorious language itself ; indeed, as he fore-
told of his Essay's, it " will live as long as books last."

In the translation of his works into Latin, he was
assisted by Rawley, his future biographer, and his
two friends, Ben Jonson, the poet, and Hobbes, the
philosopher.

He wrote for his " own recreation," amongst very
serious studies, a Collection of Apophthegms, New
and Old, said to have been dictated in one rainy
day, but probably the result of several " rainy days."
This contains many excellent jocular anecdotes, and
has been, perhaps, with too much indulgence, pro-
nounced by Macaulay to be the best jest-book in the
world.

He commenced a Digest of the Laws of England,
but he soon discontinued it, because it was " a work
of assistance, and that which he could not master by
his own forces and pen." James the First had not
sufficient elevation of mind to afford him the means
of securing the assistance he required.

He wrote his will with his own hand on the 19th
of December, 1625. He directs that he shall be
interred in St. Michael's Church, near St. Albans:
" There was my mother buried, and it is the parish

30 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

church of my mansion-house at Gorhambury. ....
For my name and memory, I leave it to men's
charitable speeches, and to foreign nations, and the
next ages." This supreme act of filial piety towards
his gifted mother is affecting. Let no "imcharita-
ble" word be uttered over his last solemn behest;
foreign nations and all ages will not refuse a tribute
of homage to his genius ! Gassendi presents an
analysis of his labors, and pays a tribute of admira-
tion to their author ; Descartes has mentioned him
with encomium ; Malebranche quotes him as an au-
thority; Puffendorff expressed admiration of him;
the University of Oxford presented to him, after his
fall, an address, in which he is termed "a mighty
Hercules, who had by his own hand greatly ad-
vanced those pillars in the learned world which by
the rest of the world were supposed immovable."
Leibnitz ascribed to him the revival of true philo-
sophy; Newton had studied him so closely that he
adopted even his phraseology ; Voltaire and D'Alem-
bert have rendered him popular in France. The
modem philosophers of all Europe regard him rever-
entially as the father of experimental philosophy.

He attempted at this late period of his life a met-
rical translation into English of the Psalms of
David ; although his prose is full of poetry, his verse
has but little of the divine art.

He again declined to take his seat as a peer in
Charles's second Parliament; but the last stage of
his life displayed more dignity and real greatness

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 31

than the "pride, pomp, and circumstance" of his
high offices and honors. The public of England
and of "foreign nations" forgot the necessity of
" charitable speeches " and anticipated " the next
ages." The most distinguished foreigners repaired
to Gray's Inn to pay their respects to him. The
Marquis d'Effiat, who brought over to England the
Princess Henrietta Maria, the wife of Charles the
First, went to see him. Bacon, confined to his bed,
but unwilling to decline the visit, received him with
the curtains drawn. "You resemble the angels,"
said the French minister to him, " we hear those
beings continually talked of; we believe them supe-
rior to mankind ; and we never have the consolation
to see them."

But in ill health and infirmity he continued his
studies and experiments ; as it occurred to him that
snow might preserve animal substances from putre-
faction as well as salt, he tried the experiment, and
stuffed a fowl with snow with his own hands.
" The great apostle of experimental philosophy was
destined to become its martyr ; " he took cold. From
his bed he dictated a letter to the Earl of Arundel,
to whose house he had been conveyed. " I was
likely to have had the fortune of Caius Plinius the
Elder, who lost his life by trying an experiment
about the burning of the Mount Vesuvius. For I
was also desirous to try an experiment or two touch-
ing the conservation and induration of bodies. As
for the experiment itself, it succeeded excellently

32 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

well." He had, indeed, the fortune of Pliny the
Elder; for he never recovered from the effects of
his cold, which brought on fever and a complaint of
the chest ; and he expired on the 9th of April, 1626,
in the sixty-sixth year of his age. Thus died, a vic-
tim to his devotion to science, Francis Bacon, whose
noble death is an expiation of the errors of his life,
and who was, as has been justly observed, notwith-
standing all his faults, one of the greatest ornaments
and benefactors of the human race.

No account has been preserved of his funeral ;
but probably it was private. Sir Thomas Meautys,
his faithful secretary, erected at his own expense a
monument to Bacon's memory. Bacon is represented
sitting, reclining on his hand, and absorbed in medi-
tation. The effigy bears the inscription : sic sedebat.

The singular fact ought not to be omitted, that
notwithstanding the immense sums that had been
received by him, legitimately or otherwise, he died
insolvent. The fault of his life had been that he
never adapted his expenses to his income ; perhaps
even he never calculated them. To what irretrieva-
ble ruin did not this lead him? To disgrace and
dishonor, in the midst of his career; to insolvency
at its end. His love of worldly grandeur was un-
controllable, or at least uncontrolled. "The virtue
of prosperity is temperance," says he himself; but
this virtue he did not possess. His stately bark
rode proudly over the waves, unmindful of the
rocks ; on one of these, alas I it split and foundered.

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 33

Bacon was very prepossessing in his person ; he
was in stature above the middle size ; his forehead
was broad and high, of an intellectual appearance ;
his eye was lively and expressive ; and his counte-
nance bore early the marks of deep thought.

It might be mentioned here with instruction to
the reader, that few men were more impressed than
Bacon with the value of time, the most precious
element of life. He assiduously employed the small-
est portions of it ; considering justly that the days,
the hours, nay minutes of existence require the great-
est care at our hands ; the weeks, months, and years
have been wisely said to take care of themselves.
His chaplain, Rawley, remarks: ''Nullum, momentum
aut temporis segmentum perire et intercidere passus
est," he suffered no moment nor fragment of time to
pass away unprofitably. It is this circumstance that
explains to us the great things he accomplished even
in the most busy part of his life.

The whole of Bacon's biography has been admira-
bly recapitulated by Lord Campbell ^ in the following
paragraph : —

"We have seen him taught his alphabet by his mother;
patted on the head by Queen Elizabeth ; mocking the wor-
shippers of Aristotle at Cambridge; catching the first glimpses,
of his great discoveries, and yet uncertain whether the light
was from heaven ; associating with the learned and the gay
at the court of France; devoting himself to Bracton'' and

* Lives of the Lord Chancellors and Keepers of the Great Seal of
England.

^ Bracton is one of the earliest wi'iters of English law. He
3

34 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

the Year Books in Gray's Inn; throwing aside the musty
folios of the law to write a moral Essay, to make an experi-
ment in natural philosophy, or to detect the fallacies which
had hitherto obstructed the progress of useful truth ; contented
for a time with taking *' all knowledge for his province ; "
roused from these speculations by the stings of vulgar ambi-
tion; plying all the arts of flattery to gain official advance-
ment by royal and courtly favor ; entering the House of
Commons, and displaying powers of oratory of which he had
been unconscious ; being seduced by the love of popular ap-
plause, for a brief space becoming a patriot ; making amends,
by defending all the worst excesses of prerogative ; publishing
to the world lucubrations on morals, which show the nicest
perception of what is honorable and beautiful as well as pru-
dent, in the conduct of life ; yet the son of a Lord Keeper, the
nephew of the prime minister, a Queen's counsel, with the first
priictice at the bar, arrested for debt, and languishing in a
spunging-house ; tired with vain solicitations to his own kin-
dred for promotion, joining the party of their opponent, and
after experiencing the most generous kindness from the young
and chivalrous head of it, assisting to bring him to the scaf-
fold, and to blacken his memory ; seeking, by a mercenary
marriage to repair his broken fortunes ; on the accession of a
new sovereign offering up the most servile adulation to a
pedant whom he utterly despised ; infinitely gratified by being
permitted to kneel down, with three hundred others, to receive
the honor of knighthood; truckling to a worthless favorite
with the most slavish subserviency that he might be appointed
a law-officer of the Crown ; then giving the most admirable
advice for the compilation and emendation of the laws of
England, and helping to inflict torture on a poor parson whom
he wished to hang as a traitor for writing an unpublished and

flourished in the thirteenth century. The title of his work is De
Legibus et Consuetudinibus Anglioc, first printed in 1569.

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 35

unpreached sermon; attracting the notice of all Europe by
his philosophical works, which established a new era in tlie
mode of investigating the phenomena both of matter and
mind; basely intriguing m the meanwhile for further promo-
tion, and writing secret letters to his sovereign to disparage his
rivals ; riding proudly between the Lord High Treasurer and
Lord Privy Seal, preceded by his mace- bearer and purse-
bearer, and followed by a long line of nobles and judges, to
be installed in the office of Lord High Chancellor ; by and by,
settling with his servants the account of the bribes they had
received for him ; a little embarrassed by being obliged, out
of decency, the case being so clear, to decide against the party
whose money he had pocketed, but stifling the misgivings of
conscience by the splendor and flattery which he now com-
manded ; struck to the earth by the discovery of his corrup-
tion ; taking to his bed, and refusing sustenance ; confessing
the truth of the charges brought against him, and abjectly
imploring mercy ; nobly rallymg from his disgrace, and en-
gaging in new literary undertakings, which have added to the
splendor of his name; still exhibiting a touch of his ancient
vanity, and, in the midst of pecuniary embarrassment, refusing
to ' be stripped of his feathers ; ' i inspired, nevertheless, with
all his youthful zeal for science, in conducting his last experi-
ment of ' stuffing a fowl with snow to preserve it,' which
succeeded * excellently well,' but brought hhn to his grave ;
and, as the closing act of a life so checkered, making his will,
whereby, conscious of the shame he had incun'ed among his
contemporaries, but hnpressed with a swelling conviction of
what he had achieved for mankind, he bequeathed his ' name
and memory to men's charitable speeches, to foreign nations,
and the next ages.' "

After this brilliant recapitulation of the principal
facts of Bacon's eventful life, there remains the

* The woods on his estate of Gorhambury.

36 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

difficult task of examining his character as a writer
and philosopher ; and then of presenting some ob-
servations on his principal works. As these sub-
jects have occupied the attention of the master minds
and most elegant writers of England, we shall un-
hesitatingly present the reader with the opinions
of these, the moet competent judges in each special
department.

But first, let the philosopher speak for himself.

The end and aim of the writings of Bacon are
best described by himself, as these descriptions may
be gleaned from his various works. He taught, to
use his own language, the means, not of the "ampli-
fication of the power of one man over his country,
nor of the amplification of the power of that coun-
try over other nations ; but the amplification of the
power and kingdom of mankind over the world." ^
" A restitution of man to the sovereignty of nature." ^
" The enlarging the bounds of human empire to the
effecting of all things possible."^ From the enlarge-
ment of reason, he did not separate the growth of
virtue; for he thought that "truth and goodness
were one, differing but as the seal and the print,
for truth prints goodness."*

The art which Bacon taught, has been well said
to be " the art of inventing arts."

The great qualities of his mind, as they are exhi-
bited in his works, have been well portrayed by the

* Of the Interpretation of Nature. * Ibid.

• New Atlantis. * Advancement of Learning.

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 37

pen of Sir James Mackintosh. We subjoin the
opinion of this elegant writer in his own words :

" It is easy to describe his transcendant merit in general
terms of commendation : for some of his great qualities lie
on the surface of his writings. But that in which he most
excelled all other men, was in the range and compass of his
intellectual view — the power of contemplating many and
distant objects together, without indistinctness or confusion —
which he himself has called the discursive or comprehensive
understanding. This wide-ranging intellect was illuminated
by the brightest Fancy that ever contented itself with the
office of only ministering to Reason : and from this singular
relation of the two grand faculties of man, it has resulted,
that his philosophy, though illustrated still more than adorned
by the utmost splendor of imagery, continues stUl subject to
the undivided supremacy of intellect. In the midst of aU
the prodigality of an imagination which, had it been inde-
pendent, would have been poetical, his opinions remained
severely rational.

"It is not so easy to conceive, or at least to describe, other
equally essential elements of his greatness, and conditions of
his success. , He is probably a single instance of a mind
which, in philosophizing, always reaches the point of eleva-
tion whence the whole prospect is commanded, without ever
rising to such a distance as to lose a distinct perception of
every part of it." ^

Mr. Macaulay speaks of the following peculiarity
of Bacon's understanding : ^ —

" With great minuteness of observation he had an ampli-
tude of comprehension such as has never yet been vouch-
safed to any other human being. The small fine mind of
La Bruyere had not a more delicate tact than the large iutel-

1 Edinburgh Review. ^ Essays. "

38 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

lect of Bacon. The " Essays " contain abundant proofs that
no nice feature of character, no peculiarity in the ordering
of a house, a garden, or a court-masque, could escape the
notice of one whose mind was capable of taking in the whole
world of knowledge. His understanding resembled the tent
which the fairy Paribanou gave to prince Ahmed. Fold it,
and it seemed a toy for the hand of the lady. Spread it,
and the armies of powerful sultans might repose beneath its
shade.

" In keenness of observation he has been equalled, though,
perhaps, never surpassed. But the largeness of his miud
was all his own. The glance with which he surveyed the
intellectual universe, resembled that which the archangel,
from the golden threshold of heaven, darted down into the
new creation.

" Round he surveyed and well might, where he stood
So high above the circling canopy
Of night's extended shade — from eastern point
Of Libra, to the fleecy star which bears
Andromeda far off Atlantic seas
Beyond the horizon."

Bacon's philosophy is, to use an expression of his
own, " the servant and interpreter of nature ; " he
cultivated it in the leisure left him by the assiduous
study and practice of the law and by the willing
duties of a courtier ; it was rather the recreation
than the business of his life; "my business," said
he, " found rest in my contemplations ; " but his very
recreations rendered him, according to Leibnitz, the
father of experimental philosophy, and, according
to all, the originator of all its results, of all later
discoveries in chemistry and the arts, in short, of
all modern science and its applications.

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 39

Mr. Macaulay is of opinion that the two leading
principles of his philosophy are utility and progress ;
that the ethics of his inductive method are to do
good, to do more and more good, to mankind.

Lord Campbell believes that a most perfect body of
ethics might be made out from the writings of Bacon.

The origin of his philosophy was the conviction
with which he was impressed of the insufficiency of
that of the ancients, or rather of that of Aristotle,
which reigned with almost undisputed sway through-
out Europe. He reverenced antiquity for its great
works, its great men ; but not because of its ancient-
ness; he deemed its decrees worthy of reverential
consideration, but did not think they admitted of no
appeal; he was not a bigot to antiquity or a con-
temner of modern times. He happily combated
that undue and blind submission to the authority of
ancient times for the mere reason that they are
older than our own, alleging truly that " antiquitas
SECULi JUVEXTUS MUNDi, that our times are the
ancient times, when the world is ancient, and not
those which we account ancient, ordine retrogrado,
by a computation backward from ourselves." ^

Throwing off, then, all allegiance to antiquity, he
appealed directly from Aristotle to nature, from
reasoning to experiment.

But let us invoke the testimony of an eminent
philosopher, Sir John Herschel: —

1 Advancement of Learning.

40 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

" By the discoveries of Copernicus, Kepler, and Galileo,
the errors of the Aristotelian philosophy were eflFectually over-
turned on a plain appeal to the facts of nature; but it re-
mained to show, on broad and general principles, how and
why Aristotle was in the wrong ; to set in evidence the pecu-
liar weakness of his method of philosophizing, and to substi-
tute in its place a stronger and better. This important task
was executed by Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam, who will
therefore justly be looked upon in all future ages as the great
reformer of philosophy, though his own actual contributions
to the stock of physical truths were small, and his ideas of
particular points strongly tinctured with mistakes and errors,
which were the fault rather of the general want of physical
information of the age than of any narrowness of view on
his own part; of this he was fully aware. It has been at-
tempted by some to lessen the merit of this great achieve-
ment, by showing that the inductive method had been
practised in many instances, both ancient and modem, by the
mere instinct of mankind ; but it is not the introduction of in-
ductive reasoning, as a new and hitherto untried process, which
characterizes the Baconian philosophy, but his keen percep-
tion, and his broad and spirit-stirring, almost enthusiastic,
announcement of its paramount importance, as the alpha and
omega of science, as the grand and only chain for the linking
together of physical truths, and the eventual key to every dis-
covery and every application. Those who would deny hira his
just glory on such grounds would refuse to Jenner or to Howard
their civic crowns, because a few farmers in a remote province
had, time out of mind, been acquainted with vaccination, or
philanthropists, in all ages, had occasionally visited the pris-
oner in his dungeon."

" It is to our immortal countryman Bacon," says he, again,
" that we owe the broad announcement of this grand and
fertile principle; and the development of the idea, that the
whole of natural philosophy consists entirely of a series of

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 41

inductive generalizations, commencing with the most circum-
stantially stated particulars, and canned up to universal laws,
or axioms, which comprehend in their statements every sub-
ordinate degree of generality and of a corresponding series
of inverted reasoning from generals to particulars, by which
these axioms are traced back into their remotest conse-
quences, and all particular propositions deduced from them,
as well those by whose immediate consideration we rose to
their discovery, as those of which we had no previous knowl-
edge. . . .

" It would seem that a union of two qualities almost oppo-
site to each other — a going forth of the thoughts in two
directions, and a sudden transfer of ideas from a remote sta-
tion in one to an equally distant one in the other — is required
to start the first idea of applying science. Among the Greeks,
this point was attained by Archimedes, but attained too late,
on the eve of that great eclipse of science which was destined
to continue for nearly eighteen centuries, tUl Galileo in Italy,
and Bacon in England, at once dispelled the darkness; the
one, by his inventions and discoveries ; the other, by the irre-
sistible force of his arguments and eloquence." ^

His style is copious, comprehensive, and smooth;
it does not flow with the softness of the purling rill,
but rather with the strength, fulness, and swelling of
a majestic river, and the rude harmony of the moun-
tain stream. His images are replete with poetry and
thought ; they always illustrate his subject. HaUam
is of opinion that the modern writer that comes near-
est to him is Burke. " He had," said Addison, " the
sound, distinct, comprehensive knowledge of Aris-
totle, with all the beautiful lights, graces, and embel-

1 Preliminary Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy.

42 NOTICE OF FEANCIS BACON.

lishments of Cicero. One does not know which to
admire most in his writings, the strength of reason,
force of style, or brightness of imagination." ^

Bacon improved so much the melody, elegance, and
force of English prose, that we may apply to him
what was said of Augustus with regard to Rome :
lateritiam invenit, marmoream reliquit ; he found it
brick, and he left it marble. Mr, Hallam's opinion
differs somewhat from this ; it is as follows : —

"The style of Bacon has an idiosyncrasy which we might
expect from his genius. It can rarely indeed happen, and
only in men of secondary talents, that the language they use
is not, by its very choice and collocation, as well as its mean-
ing, the representative of an individuality that distinguishes
their turn of thought. Bacon is elaborate, sententious, often
witty, often metaphorical ; nothing could be spared ; his anal-
ogies are generally striking and novel ; his style is clear, pre-
cise, forcible ; yet there is some degree of stiffness about it,
and in mere language he is inferior to Raleigh." *

It is a most remarkable characteristic of Bacon,
and one in which Burke resembled him, that his
imagination grew stronger with his increasing years,
and his style richer and softer. " The fruit came
first," says Mr. Macaulay, " and remained till the
last ; the blossoms did not appear till late. In elo-
quence, in sweetness and variety of expression, and
in richness of illustration, his later writings are far

1 Tattler, No. 267.

^ Introduction to the Literature of Europe in the fifteenth, six-
teenth, and seventeenth centuries.

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 43

superior to those of his youth." His eariiest Essays
have as much truth and cogent reasoning as his
latest; but these are far superior in grace and beauty.
A most striking illustration of this is afforded by one
of the last Essays, added a year before Bacon's death,
that of Adversity (Essay V.), than which naught can
be more graceful and beautiful.

The account of Bacon's works will necessarily be
very succinct, and, we fear, imperfect. We shall,
however, for each of them, call in the aid of the
most competent judges, whose award public opinion
will not reverse.

ESSAYS,

Bacon published his Essays in 1597. They were,
in the estimation of Mr. Hallam, the first in time
and in excellence of English writings on moral pru-
dence. Of the fifty-eight Essays, of which the work
is now composed, ten only appeared in the first
edition. But to these were added Religious Medi-
tations, Places of Perswasion and Disswasion, Seene
dnd allowed ; many of which were afterwards embod-
ied in the Essays. These Essays were : 1. Of Studie;
2. Of Discourse ; 3. Of Ceremonies and Respects ; 4.
Of Followers and Friends ; 5. Of Sutors ; 6. Of Ex-
pence ; 7. Of Regiment of Health ; 8. Of Honor and
Reputation; 9. Of Faction; 10. Of Negociating. In
the edition of 1612, " The Essaies of S' Francis Ba-
con Knight, the King's Atturny Generall," were
increased to forty-one.

44 NOTICE OF FKANCIS BACON.

The new Essays added are : 1. Of Religion ; 2. Of
Death ; 3. Of Goodnesse, and Goodnesse of Nature ;
4. Of Cunning ; 5. Of Marriage and Single Life ; 6, Of
Parents and Children ; 7. Of Nobility ; 8. Of Great
Place; 9. Of Empire; 10. Of Counsell; 11. Of Dis-
patch; 12. Of Love; 13. Of Friendship; 14. Of
Atheism; 15. Of Superstition; 16. Of Wisedome
for a Man's selfe; 20. Of seeming wise; 21. Of
Riches ; 22. Of Ambition ; 23. Of Young Men and
Age ; 24. Of Beauty ; 25. Of Deformity ; 26. Of Nor
ture in Men ; 27. Of Custom and Education ; 28.
Of Fortune ; 35. Of Praise ; 36. Of Judicature ; 37.
of Vaine-Glory ; 38. Of Greatnesse of Kingdomes ;
39. Of the Publique ; 40. Of Warre and Peace.

These forty- one Essays were afterwards again aug-
mented to fifty-eight, with the new title of The Es-
saies or Covnsels, Civill and Morall ; they were
likewise improved by corrections, additions, and illus-
trations. By the peculiarity of Bacon, already no-
ticed, the later Essays rise in beauty and interest.

Bacon considered his Essays but as "the recreations
of his other studies." He has entitled them, in the
Latin translation, Sermones jideles, sive Interiora re-
rum. The idea of them, as has been already men-
tioned, was suggested by those of Montaigne ; but
there is but little resemblance between the two pro-
ductions. Montaigne is natural, ingenuous, sportive.
Bacon's " Essays or Counsels, civil and moral" " the
fragments of his conceits," as he styles them, are all
study, art, and gravity ; but the reflections in them

NOTICE OF FEANCIS BACON. 45

are true and profound. Montaigne confessedly
painted himself, declared that he was the matter
of his own book/ while with Bacon the man was
merged in the author and the philosopher, who pro
pounded like Seneca, and somewhat in Seneca's style,
the maxims of practical wisdom, that, to use Bacon's
o\vn language, "come home to men's business and
bosoms," and clothed them in a garb, new, elegant,
and rich, hitherto unknown in England. But our
author, if we may judge by the matter and even
manner of his Essays, may have had in view, not
BO much Montaigne's Essais as Seneca's Letters to
Lucilius. The Essay of Death is obviously founded
on Seneca's Epistles on this subject. That he was
well acquainted with Seneca's Letters, is incontro-
vertible. He alludes to them thus in the dedication
to Prince Henry, in 1612 : " The word (Essays)," says
he, " is late, but the thing is ancient ; for Seneca's
Epistles to Lucilius, if you mark them well, are but
Essays, that is, dispersed meditations, though con-
veyed in the form of epistles." Bacon justly foretold
of his Essays that they " would live as long as books
last."

1 Montaigne says, in his author's address to the reader : —
" le veiilx qu'on m'y vcoye en ma fa<^on simple, naturelle et ordu
naire, sans estude et artifice ; car c'est moi que je peinds." He says
again elsewhere : " /e n'ay pas plus faict mon livre, que mon livre
m'a faict; livre consubstantiel & son aucteur, d'une occupation
propre, mevibre de ma vie, non d^une occupation et Jin tierce et
estrangiere, comme touts aiUtres livres." (Livre ii. ch. xviii.)

46 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

The following is the opinion of Dugald Stewart,
himself an eminent philosopher and elegant writer :

"His Essays are the best known and most popular of all
his works. It is also one of those where the superiority uf ,
bis genius appears to the greatest advantage; the novelty
and depth of his reflections often receiving a strong relief fi-om
triteness of the subject. It may be read from beginning to
end in a few hours; and yet, after the twentieth perusal, one
seldom fails to remark in it something unobserved before.
This, indeed, is a characteristic of all Bacon's writings, and
only to be accounted for by the inexhaustible aliment they
furnish to our own thoughts, and the sympathetic activity
they impart to our torpid faculties."^

The reader will, perhaps, be rather gratified than
wearied with another appreciation of this valuable
production of our young moralist of twenty-six. It
is of no incompetent judge, — Mr. Hallam.

" The transcendent strength of Bacon's mind is visible in
the whole tenor of these Essays, unequal as they must be
from the very nature of such compositions. They are deeper
and more discriminating than any earlier, or almost any later
work in the English language, full of recondite observation,
long matured and carefully sifted. It is true that we might
wish for more vivacity and ease; Bacon, who had much wit,
had little gayety ; his Essays are consequently stiff and grave
wliero the subject might have been touched with a lively
baud ; thus it is in those on Gardens and on Building. The
sentences have sometimes too apophthegmatic a form and
want coherence ; the historical instances, though far less fre-
quent than with Montaigne, have a little the look of pedantry
to our eyes. But it is from this condensation, from this

* Introduction to the Encyclopsedia.

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 47

gravity, that the work derives its peculiar impressiveness.
Few books are more quoted, and what is not always the case
wiili such books, we may add that few are more generally
read. In this respect they lead the van of our prose litera-
ture ; for no gentleman is ashamed of owning that he has not
read the Elizabethan writers; but it would be somewhat
derogatory to a man of the slightest claim to polite letters,
were he unacquainted with the Essays of Bacon. It is,
indeed, little worth while to read this or any other book for
reputation sake ; but very few in our language so well repay
the pains, or afford more nourishment to the thoughts. They
might be judiciously introduced, with a small number more,
into a sound method of education, one that should make
wisdom, rather than mere knowledge, its object, and might
become a text-book of examination in our schools." ^

ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING.

The Advancement of Learning was published in
1605. It has usually been considered that the whole
of Bacon's philosophy is contained in this work, ex-
cepting, however, the second book of the Novum Or-
ganum. Of the Advancement of Learning he made
a Latin translation, under the title of De Dignitate
et Augmentis Scientiarum, which, however, contains
about one third of new matter and some slight inter-
polations ; a few omissions have been remarked
in it.

The Advancement of Learning is, as it were,
to use his own language, " a small globe of the

^ Introduction to the Literature of Europe in the fifteenth,
sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries.

48 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

intellectual world, as truly and faithfully as I could
discover with a note and description of those facts
which seem to me not constantly occupate or not
well converted by the labor of man. In which, if
I have in any point receded from that which is
commonly received, it hath been with a purpose of
proceeding in melius and not in aliud, a mind of
amendment and proficience, and not of change and
difference. For I could not be true and constant
to the argument I handle, if I were not willing to
go beyond others, but yet not more willing than to
have others go beyond me."

The Advancement of Learning is divided into
two parts; the former of which is intended to re-
move prejudices against the search after truth, by
pointing out the causes which obstruct it ; in the
second, learning is divided into history, poetry, and
philosophy, according to the faculties of the mind
from which they emanate — memory, imagination,
and reason. Our author states the deficiencies he
obsei'ves in each.

All the peculiar qualities of his style are fully
developed in this noble monument of genius, one
of the finest in English, or perhaps any other lan-
guage ; it is full of deep thought, keen observation,
rich imagery, Attic wit, and apt illustration. Dugald
Stewart and Hallam have both expressed their just
admiration of the short paragraph on poesy; but,
with all due deference, we must consider that the
beautiful passage on the dignity and excellency of

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 49

knowledge is surpassed by none. Can aught excel
the noble comparison of the ship ? The reader shall
judge for himself.

"If the invention of the ship was thought so noble, which
carrieth riches and commodities fi'om place to place, and conso-
ciateth the most remote regions in participation of their fruits ;
liow much more are letters to be magnified, which, as ships,
pass through the vast seas of time, and make ages so distant
to participate of the wisdom, illuminations, and inventions,
the one of the other ? "

DE SAPIENTIA VETERUM.

The Wisdom of the Ancients, or rather, De sapi-
entia i^eterum (for it was written in Latin), is a short
treatise on the mythology of the ancients, by which
Bacon endeavors to discover and to show the physi-
cal, moral, and political meanings it concealed. If
the reader is not convinced that the ancients under-
stood by these fables all that Bacon discovers in
them, he must at least admit the probability of it,
and be impressed with the penetration of the author
and the variety and depth of his knowledge.

INSTAURATIO HIAGNA.

The Instauratio Magna was published in 1620,
while Bacon was still chancellor.

In his dedication of it to James the First, in 1620,
in which he says he has been engaged in it nearly
thirty years, he pathetically remarks : " The reason

50 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

why I have published it now, specially being im-
perfect, is, to speak plainly, because I number my
days, and would have it saved." His country and
the world participate in the opinion of the philoso-
pher, and would have deemed its loss one of the
greatest to mankind.

Such was the care with which it was composed,
that Bacon transcribed it twelve times with his own
hand.

It is divided into six parts. The first entitled
Partitiones Scientiarum, or the divisions of knowl-
edge possessed by mankind, in which the author
has noted the deficiencies and imperfections of each.
This he had already accomplished by his Advance-
ment of Learning.

Part 2 is the Novum Organum Scientiarum, or
new method of studying the sciences, a name proba^
bly suggested by Aristotle's Organon (treatises on
Logic). He intended it to be "the science of a
better and more perfect use of reason in the inves-
tigation of things and of the true end of understand-
ing." This has been generally denominated the
inductive method, i. e. the experimental method,
from the principle of induction, or bringing together
facts and drawing from them general principles or
truths, by which the author proposes the advance-
ment of all kinds of knowledge. In this consists
preeminently the philosophy of Bacon. Not rea-
soning upon conjecture on the laws and properties
of nature, but, as Bacon quaintly terms it, "asking

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 51

questions of nature," that is, making experiments,
laboriously collecting facts first, and, after a suffi-
cient number has been brought together, then form-
ing systems or theories founded on them.

But this work is rather the summary of a more
extensive one he designed, the aphorisms of it being
rather, according to Hallam, "the heads or theses
of chapters." But some of these principles are of
paramount importance. An instance may be afforded
of this, extracted from the " Interpretation of Nature,
and Man's dominion over it." It is the very first sen-
tence in the Novum Organum. " Man, the servant
and interpreter of nature, can only understand and
act in proportion as he observes and contemplates
the order of nature ; more, he can neither know nor
do." This, as has justly been observed, is undoubt-
edly the foundation of all our real knowledge.

The Novum Organum is so important, that we
deem it desirable to present some more detailed
accounts of it.

The body of the work is divided into two parts ;
the former of which is intended to serve as an
introduction to the other, a preparation of the mind
for receiving the doctrine.

Bacon begins by endeavoring to remove the pre-
judices and to obtain fair attention to his doctrine.
He compares philosophy to " a vast pyramid, which
ought to have the history of nature for its basis ; "
he likens those who strive to erect by the force
of abstract speculation to the giants of old, who,

52 NOTICE OF FEANCIS BACON.

according to the poets, endeavored to throw IMount
Ossa upon Pelion, and Olympus upon Ossa. The
method of " anticipating nature," he denounces " as
rash, hasty, and unphilosophical ; " whereas, "in-
terpretations of nature, or real truths arrived at by
deduction, cannot so suddenly arrest the mind ; and
when the conclusion actually arrives, it may so
oppose prejudice, and appear so paradoxical as to
be in danger of not being received, notwithstanding
the evidence that supports it, like mysteries of faith."

Bacon first attacks the " Idols of the Mind," i. e.
the great sources of prejudice, then the different
false philosophical theories ; he afterwards proceeds
to show what are the characteristics of false sys-
tems, the causes of error in philosophy, and lastly
the grounds of hope regarding the advancement of
science.

He now aspires, to use his own language, " only
to sow the seeds of pure truth for posterity, and
not to be wanting in his assistance to the first
beginning of great undertakings." "Let the hu-
man race," says he further, "regain their dominion
over nature, which belongs to them by the bounty
of their Maker, and right reason and sound religion
will direct the use."

The second part of the Novum Organum may be
divided into three sections. The first is on the
discovery of forms, i. e. causes in nature. The
second section is composed of tables illustrative of
the inductive method, and the third and last is

KOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 53

styled the doctrine of instances, i. e. facts regarding
the discovery of causes.

Part the third of the Instauratio Magna was
to be a Natural History, as he termed it, or rather
a history of natural substances, in which the art of
man had been employed, which would have been
a history of universal nature.

Part 4, to be called Sjala intellectus, or Intellec-
tual Ladder, was intended to be, to use his own
words, "types and models which place before our
eyes the entire process of the mind in the discovery
of truth, selecting various and remarkable instances."

He had designed in the fifth part to give speci-
mens of the new philosophy ; a few fragments only
of this have been published. It was to be " the frag-
ment of interest till the principal could be raised."

The sixth and last part was " to display a perfect
system of philosophy deduced and confirmed by a
legitimate, sober, and exact inquiry according to the
method he had laid down and invented." "To
perfect this last part," says Bacon, "is above our
powers and beyond our hopes."

Let us return, however, for a moment to the
commencement, to remark that he concludes the
introduction by an eloquent prayer that his exer-
tions may be rendered effectual to the attainment
of truth and happiness. But he feels his own in-
ability, for "his days are numbered," to conduct
mankind to the hoped for goal. It was given to
him to point out the road to the promised land ; but,

54 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

like Moses, after having descried it from afar, it
was denied him to enter the land to which he had
led the way.

LIFE OF HENRY VII.

The Life of Henry VII. y published in 1622, is, in
the opinion of Hallam, **the first instance in our
language of the application of pliilosophy to rea-
soning on public events in the manner of the an-
cients and the Italians. Praise upon Henry is too
largely bestowed ; but it was in the nature of Bacon
to admire too much a crafty and selfish policy ; and
he thought also, no doubt, that so near an ancestor
of his own sovereign should not be treated with
severe impartiality." ^

LETTERS.

His Letters published in his works are numerous ;
they are written in a stiff, ungraceful, formal style ;
but still, they frequently bear the impress of the
writer's greatness and genius. Fragments of them
have been frequently quoted in the course of this
notice ; they have, perhaps, best served to exhibit
more fully the man m all the relations of his public
and private life.

MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS.

Amongst his miscellaneous papers there was found
after his death a remarkable prayer, which Addison

1 Introduction to the Literature of Europe in the 15th, 16th, and
17th centuries.

NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 53

deemed sufficiently beautiful to be published in the
Tatler^ for Christmas, 1710. We extract a pas-
sage or two, that may serve to illustrate Bacon's
position or his character.

" I have, though in a despised weed, procured the good of
all men. If any have been my enemies, I thought not of
tliem, neither hath the sun almost set upon my displeasxxre ;
but I have been as a dove, free from superfluity of malicious-
ness."

" Just are thy judgments upon me for my sins, which are
more in number than the sands of the sea, but have no pro-
portion to thy mercies ; for what are the sands of the sea ?
Earth, heaven, and all these are nothing to thy mercies."

Addison observes of this prayer, that for elevation
of thought and greatness of expression, " it seems —
rather the devotion of an angel than a man."

In taking leave of the life and the works of the
greatest of philosophers, and alas ! the least of men,
we have endeavored to present a succinct but faithful
narrative — " his glory not extenuated wherein he
was worthy, nor his offences enforced, for which he
suffered" merited obloquy with his own contempo-
raries and all posterity. Our endeavor has been

Verba aninii profeiTe et vitam impendere vero.

But his failings, great as they were, are forgotten
through his transcendent merit ; his faults injured
but few, and in his own time alone ; his genius has
benefited all mankind. The new direction he gave to
philosophy was the indirect cause of all the modem

1 No. 267.

56 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON.

conquests of science over matter, or, as it were,
over nature. What it has already accomplished,
and may yet effect for the whole human race, is
incalculable. Macaulay, the historian of England,
has been likewise the eloquent narrator of the pro-
gress, that owes its origin to the genius of Francis
Bacon.

" Ask a follower of Bacon," says Macaulay, *' what the
new philosophy, as it was called in the time of Charles the
Second, has effected for mankind, and his answer is ready :
* It hath lengthened life ; it has mitigated pain ; it has extin-
guished diseases ; it has increased the feitLlity of the soil :
it has given new securities to the mariner; it has furnished
new arms to the warrior ; it has spanned great rivers and
estuaries with hridges of fonn unknown to our fathers : it
has guided the thunderbolt innocuously from heaven to earth ;
it has lighted up the night with the splendor of the day ; it
has extended the range of the human vision ; it has multiplied
the power of the human muscle ; it has accelerated motion ; it
has annihilated distance ; it has facilitated intercourse, corres-
pondence, all friendly offices, aU dispatch of business ; it has
enabled man to descend to the depths of the sea, to soar into
the air, to penetrate securely into the noxious recesses of the
earth, to traverse the land on cars which whirl along without
horses, and the ocean in ships which sail against the wind.
These are but a part of its fruits, and of its first-fruits. For
it is a philosophy which never rests, which has never attained,
which is never perfect. Its law is progress. A point which
yesterday was invisible is its goal to-day, and will be its
starting-post to-morrow.' " ^

* Essays.

E S SAYS.

>^i.-

OF TRUTH.

What is truth ? said jesting Pilate ; ^ and would
not stay for an answer. Certainly, there be that
delight in giddiness ; and count it a bondage to fix
a belief; affecting freewill in thinking as well as
in acting. And though the sects of philosophers of
that kind be gone, yet there remain certain dis-
coursing wits which are of the same veins, though
there be not so much blood in them as was in those
of the ancients. But it is not only the difficulty
and labor which men take in finding out of truth :
nor again, that, when it is found, it imposeth upon
' men's thoughts, that doth bring lies in favor ; ^ut,
a natural though corrupt love of the lie itself.
One of the later schools^ of the Grecians examin-

1 He refers to the following passage in the Gospel of St. John,
iviii. 38: "Pilate saith unto him, What is tmth ? And when
he had said this, he went out again unto the Jews, and saith
unto them, I find in him no fault at all."

2 He probably refers to the "New Academy," a sect of Greek
philosophers, one of whose moot questions was, " What is
truth ? " Upon which they came to the unsatisfactory conclu-
sion, that mankind has no criterion by which to form a judg-
ment.

58 ESSAYS.

eth the matter, and is at a stand to think what
should be in it that men should love lies; where
^either_they make for pleasure, as with poets ; qot
for advantage, as with the merchant, ^uj; for the
lie's sake. But I cannot tell ; this same truth is a
naked and open daylight, that doth not show the
masks, and mummeries, and triumphs of the world,
half so stately and daintily as candle-lights. Truth
may perhaps come to the price of a pearl, that
showeth best byday^ but it will not rise to the
price of a diamond or carbuncle, that showeth best
in varjed lights. A mixture of a lie doth ever add
pleasure. Doth any man doubt, that if there were
taken out of men's minds vain opinions, flattering
hopes, false valuations, imaginations as one would,
and the like, but it would leave the minds of a num-
ber of men poor shrunken things, full of melancholy
and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves?
One of the fathers,^ in great severity, called poesy
" vinum dsemonum," ^ because it filleth the imagina-
tion, and yet it is but with the shadow of a lie.
But it is not the lie that passeth through the mind,
but the lie that sinketh in, and settlcth in it, that
doth the hurt, such as we spake of before. But
howsoever these things are thus in men's depraved
judgments and affections, yet truth, which only doth
judge itself, teacheth that the inquiry of tmth,

1 Perhaps he was thinking of St. Augustine. — See Aug. Con-
fess, i. 25, 26.

2 "The wine of evil spirits."

OF TRUTH. 59

which is the love-making, or wooing of it, the knowl-
edge of truth, \£hicl} is the presence of it, and the
belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it, is the
sovereign good of human nature. The first creature
of God, in the works of the days, was the light of
the sense ; ^ the last was the light of reason ; * and
his sabbath work, ever since, is the illumination of
his Spirit. First, he breathed light upon the face
of the matter, or chaos ; then he breathed light into
the face of man ; and still he breatheth and inspir-
eth light into the face of his chosen. The poet^
that beautified the sect,^ that was otherwise inferior
to the rest, saith yet excellently well : " It is a

1 Genesis i. 3: "And God said, Let there be light, and there
was light."

2 At the moment when " The Lord God formed man out of
the dust of the gi-ound, and breathed into his nostrils the breath
of life ; and man became a living soul." — Genesis ii. 7.

2 Lucre*-,ius, the Roman poet and Epicurean philosopher, i«
alluded to. — Lucret. ii. init. Comp. Adv. of Leamiiig, i. 8, 5.

* He refers to the sect which followed the doctrines of Epicu-
rus. The life of Epicurus himself was pure and abstemious in
the extreme. One of his leading tenets was, that the aim of all
speculation should be to enable men to judge with certainty
what course is to be chosen, in order to secure health of body
and tranquillity of mind. The adoption, however, of the term
" pleasure," as denoting this object, has at all periods subjected
the Epicurean system to great reproach; which, in fact, is due
rather to the conduct of many who, for their own purposes, have
taken shelter imder the system in name only, than to the tenets
themselves, which did not inculcate libertinism. Epicurus
admitted the existence of the Gods, but he deprived them of
the characteristics of Divinity, either as creators or preservers
of the world.

60 ESSAYS.

pleasure to stand upon the shore, and to see ships
tossed upon the sea ; a pleasure to stand in the
window of a castle, and to see a battle, and the
adventures thereof below ; but no pleasure is com-
parable to the standing upon the vantage-ground
of truth" (a hill not to be commanded, and where
the air is always clear and serene), " and to see the
errors, and wanderings, and mists, and tempests, in
the vale below ; " ^ so always that this prospect be
with pity, and not with swelling or pride. Certainly
it is heaven upon earth, to have a man's mind move
in charity, rest in providence, and turn upon the
poles of truth.

To pass from theological and philosophical truth
to the truth of civil business ; it will be acknowl-
edged, even by those that practise it not, that clear
and round dealing is the honor of man's nature,
and that mixture of falsehood is like alloy in coin

1 Lord Bacon has either translated this passage of Lucretius
from memory or has pui-posely paraphrased it. The following
is the literal translation of the original: "'Tis a pleasant thing,
from the shore, to behold the dangers of another upon the mighty
ocean, when the winds are lashing the main ; not because it is a
grateful pleasure for any one to be in misery, but because it is
a pleasant thing to see those misfortunes from which you your-
self are free : 'tis also a pleasant thing to behold the mighty
contests of warfare, arrayed upon the plains, without a share in
the danger ; but nothing is there more delightful than to occupy
the elevated temples of the wise, well fortified by tranquil learn-
ing, whence you may be able to look down upon others, and see
them straying in every direction, and wandering in search of the
path of life."

OP TRUTH. 61

of gold and silver, which may make the metal
work the better, but it embaseth it. For these
winding and crooked courses are the goings of the
serpent ; which goeth basely upon the belly, and
not upon the feet. There is no vice that doth so
cover a man with shame, as to be found false and
perfidious ; and therefore Montaigne ^ saith prettily,
when he inquired the reason why the word of the
lie should be such a disgrace, and such an odious
charge: saith he, "If it be well weighed, to say
that a man lieth, is as much as to say that he is
/^ brave towards God and a coward towards men. \
^ For a lie faces God, and shrinks from man ; " sure- /
ly, the wickedness of falsehood and breach of faith
cannot possibly be so highly expressed, as in that it
shall be the last peal to call the judgments of God
upon the generations of men : it being foretold,
that, when " Christ cometh," he shall not " find
faith upon the earth." ^

^ Michael de Montaigne, the celebrated French Essayist. His
Essays embrace a variety of topics, which are treated in a
sprightly and entertaining manner, and are replete with remarks
indicative of strong native good sense. He died in 1592. The fol-
lowing quotation is from the second book of the Essays, c. 18 : " Ly-
ing is a disgraceful vice, and one that Plutarch, an ancient writer,
paints in most disgraceful colors, when he says that it is ' affording
testimony that one first despises God, and then fears men ; ' it is
not possible more happily to describe its horrible, disgusting, and
abandoned nature ; for, can we imagine anything more vile than
to be cowards with regard to men, and brave with regard to God ?"

2 St. Luke xviii. 8 : " Nevertheless, when the Son of man com-
eth, shall he find faith upon the earth ? "

62 ESSAYS.

ML— OF DEATH.1

Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark ;
and as that natural fear in children is increased with
tales, so is the other. Certainly, the contemplation
of death, as the wages of sin, and passage to another
world, is holy and religious ; but the fear of it, as
a tribute due unto nature, is weak. Yet in religious
meditations there is sometimes mixture of vanity and
of superstition. You shall read in some of the friars'
books of mortification, that a man should think with
himself, what the pain is, if he have but his finger's
end pressed or tortured ; and thereby imagine what
the pains of death are, when the whole body is cor-
rupted and dissolved ; when many times death passcth
with less pain than the torture of a limb, for the
most vital parts are not the quickest of sense. And
by him that spake only as a philosopher and natural
man, it was well said, " Pompa mortis magis tcrret,
quam mors ipsa."^ Groans and convulsions, and a
discolored face, and friends weeping, and blacks^
and obsequies, and the like, show death terrible.
It is worthy the observing, that there is no passion

^ A portion of this Essay is borrowed from the writings of
Seneca. See his Letters to Ludliiis, B. iv. Ep. 24 and 82.

2 " The array of the death-bed has more terrors than death
itself." This quotation is from Seneca.

8 He probably alludes to the custom of hanging the room in
black where the body of the deceased lay, a practice much more
usual in Bacon's time than at the present day.

OF DEATH. 63

in the mind of man so weak, but it mates and mas-
ters the fear of death; and therefore death is no
such terrible enemy when a man hath so many at-
tendants about him that can win the combat of him.
Revenge triumphs over death ; love slights it ; honor
aspireth to it; grief flieth to it; fear preoccupateth
it ; nay, we read, after Otho the emperor had slain
himself, pity (which is the tenderest of affections)
provoked many to die out of mere compassion to
their sovereign, and as the truest sort of followers.^
Nay, Seneca ^ adds niceness and satiety : " Cogita
quamdiu eadem feceris ; mori velle, non tantum for-
tis, aut miser, sed etiam fastidiosus potest."^ A
man would die, though he were neither valiant nor
miserable, only upon a weariness to do the same
thing so oft over and over. It is no less worthy to
observe, how little alteration in good spirits the ap-
proaches of death make : for they appear to be the
same men till the last instant. Augustus Caesar
died in a compliment : " Livia, conjugii nostri memor,
vive et vale." * Tiberius in dissimulation, as Tacitus
saith of him, "Jam Tiberium vires et corpus, non
dissimulatio, deserebant : "^ Vespasian in a jest, sitting

1 Tacit, Hist, ii. 49.

2 Ad Lucil. 77.

3 "Reflect how often you do the same things; a man may
wish to die, not only because either he is brave or wretched, but
even because he is surfeited with life."

* "Livia, mindful of our union, live on, and fare thee well." —
Suet. Aitg. Vit. c. 100.

5 "His bodily strength and vitality were now forsaking Tibe-
rius, but not his duplicity." — Ann. vi. 50.

64 ESSAYS.

upon the stooV ''Ut puto Deus fio;"^ Galba with
a sentence, " Feri, si ex re sit populi Romani," ^
holding forth his neck ; Septimus Severus in dis-
patch, " Adeste, si quid mihi restat agendum," ^ and
the like. Certainly, the Stoics ^ bestowed too much
cost upon death, and by their great preparations
made it appear more fearful. Better, saith he, " qui
finem vitse extremum inter munera ponit naturae." ^
It is as natural to die as to be born ; and to a little
infant, perhaps, the one is as painful as the other.
He that dies in an earnest pursuit, is like one that

1 This was said as a reproof to his flatterers, and in spirit is
not unlike the rebuke administered by Canute to his retinue. —
Siiet. Vespas. Vit. c. 23.

2 " I am become a Divinity, I suppose."

8 " If it be for the advantage of the Eoman people, strike." —
Tac. Hist. i. 41.

* "If aught remains to be done by me, dispatch. — Dio Cass,
76, ad fin.

^ These were the foUow^ers of Zeno, a philosopher of Citium,
in Cyprus, who founded the Stoic school, or " School of the
Portico," at Athens. The basis of his doctrines was the duty of
making virtue the object of all our researches. According to
him, the pleasures of the mind were preferable to those of the
body, and his disciples were taught to view with indifference
health or sickness, riches or poverty, pain or pleasure.

* "Whq reckons the close of his life among the boons of
nature." Lord Bacon here quotes from memory ; the passage
is in the tenth Satire of Juvenal, and runs thus : —

" Fortem posce animum, mortis terrore carentem,
Qui spatium vitae extremum inter munera ponat
Naturae " —

"Pray for strong resolve, void of the fear of death, that reckons
the closing period of life among the boons of nature."

OF UNITY IN RELIGION. 65

is wounded in hot blood, who, for the time, scarce
feels the hurt ; and therefore a mind fixed and bent
upon somewhat that is good, doth avert the dolors
' of death ; but, above all, believe it, the sweetest
canticle is " Nunc dimittis," ^ when a man hath ob-
tained worthy ends and expectations. Death hath
this also, that it openeth the gate to good fame, and
extinguisheth envy : " Extinctus amabitur idem." ^

III.— OF UNITY IN RELIGION.

Religion being the chief band of human society,
it is a happy thing when itself is well contained
within the true band of unity. The quarrels and
divisions about religion were evils unknown to the
heathen. The reason was, because the religion of
the heathen consisted rather in rites and ceremo-
nies, than in any constant belief; for you may im-
agine what kind of faith theirs was, when the chief
doctors and fathers of their church were the poets.

^ He alludes to the song of Simeon, to whom the Holy Ghost
had revealed, "that he should not see death before he had seen
the Lord's Christ." When he beheld the infant Jesus in the
temple, he took the child in his arms and burst forth into a song
of thanksgiving, commencing, " Lord, now lettest thou thy ser-
vant depart in peace, according to thy word, for mine eyes have
seen thy salvation." — St. Luke ii. 29.

^ "When dead, the same person shall be beloved." — Hor. Ep.
ii. 1, 14.

66 ESSAYS.

But the true God hath this attribute, that he is a
jealous God ; and therefore his worship and religion
wiU endure no mixture nor partner. We shall there-
fore speak a few words concerning the unity of the
church; what are the fruits thereof; what the
bounds; and what the means.

The fruits of unity (next unto the well-pleasing
of God, which is all in all), are two; the one to-
wards those that are without the church, the other
towards those that are within. For the former, it
is certain that heresies and schisms are, of aU others,
the greatest scandals, yea, more than corruption of
manners ; for as in the natural body a wound or
solution of continuity is worse than a corrupt hu-
mor, so in the spiritual; so that nothing doth so
much keep men out of the church, and drive men
out of the church, as breach of unity; and there-
fore, whensoever it cometh to that pass that one
saith, "Ecce in Deserto,"^ another saith, "Ecce in
penetralibus ; " ^ that is, when some men seek Christ
in the conventicles of heretics, and others in an
outward face of a church, that voice had need con-
tinually to sound in men's ears, " nolite exire," " go
not out." The doctor of the Gentiles (the propriety
of whose vocation drew him to have a special care
of those without) saith : " If a heathen ^ come

^ "Behold, he is in the desert." — St. Matthew xxiv. 26.
2 "Behold, he is in the secret chambers." — lb.
* He alludes to 1 Corinthians xiv. 23 : " If, therefore, the whole
church be come together into one place, and all speak with

OF UNITY IN RELIGION. 67

in, and hear you speak with several tongues, will
he not say that you are mad?" and, certainly, it
is little better: when atheists and profane persons
do hear of so many discordant and contrary opinions
in religion, it doth avert them from the church, and
maketh them "to sit down in the chair of the
scorners." ^ It is but a light thing to be vouched
in so serious a matter, but yet it expresseth well the
deformity. There is a master of scoffing, that, in
his catalogue of books of a feigned library, sets down
this title of a book, " The Morris-Dance ^ of Here-
tics ; " for, indeed, every sect of them hath a diverse
posture, or cringe, by themselves, which cannot but
move derision in worldlings and depraved politicians,
who are apt to contemn holy things.

As for the fruit towards those that are within,
it is peace, which containeth infinite blessings ; it
establisheth faith ; it kindleth charity ; the outward

tongues, and there come in those that are unlearned, or unbelievers,
will tliey not say that ye are mad ? "

1 Psalm i. 1 : "Blessed is the man that vvalketh not in the
counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor
sitteth in the seat of the scornful."

^ This dance, which was originally called the Morisco dance
is supposed to have been derived from the Moors of Spain ; the
dancers in earlier times blackening their faces to resemble Moors.
It was probably a corruption of the ancient Pyrrhic dance, which
was performed by men in annor, and which is mentioned as still
existing in Greece, in Byron's " Song of the Greek Captive : " —
"Yon have the Pyrrhic dance as yet."

Attitude and gesture formed one of the characteristics of the dance.
It is still practised in some parts of England. — Rabelais, Pantag.
ii. 7.

68 ESSAYS.

peace of the church distilleth into peace of con-
science, and it turneth the labors of writing and
reading of controversies into treatises of mortifica-
tion and devotion.

Concerning the bounds of unity, the true placing
of them importeth exceedingly. There appear to
be two extremes; for to certain zealots all speech
of pacification is odious. " Is it peace, Jehu ? " —
" What hast thou to do with peace ? turn thee be-
hind me." ^ Peace is not the matter, but following,
and party. Contrariwise, certain Laodiceans^ and
lukewarm persons think they may accommodate
points of religion by middle ways, and taking part
of both, and witty reconcilements, as if they woidd
make an arbitrament between God and man. Both
these extremes are to be avoided; which will be
done if the league of Christians, penned by our
Saviour himself, were in the two cross clauses
thereof soundly and plainly expounded : " He that
is not with us is against us ; " ^ and again, " He
that is not against us, is with us ; " that is, if the
points fundamental, and of substance in religion,

1 2 Kings ix. 18.

2 He alludes to the words in Revelation, c. iii. v. 14, 15, 16:
*' And unto the angel of the church of the Laodiceans write ; These
things saith the Amen, the faitliful and true Witness, the begin-
ning of the creation of God ; I know thy works, that thou art
neither cold nor hot. — I will spue thee out of my mouth." Lao-
dicea was a city of Asia Minor. St. Paul established the church
there which is here referred to.

8 St. Matthew xii. 30.

OF UNITY IN RELIGION. 69

were truly discerned and distinguished from points
not merely of faith, but of opinion, order, or good
intention. This is a thing may seem to many a
matter trivial, and done already; but if it were
done less partially, it would be embraced more
generally.

Of this I may give only this advice, according to
my small model. Men ought to take heed of rend-
ing God's church by two kinds of controversies ; the
one is, when the matter of the point controverted
is too small and light, not worth the heat and strife
about it, kindled only by contradiction; for, as it
is noted by one of the fathers, " Christ's coat indeed
had no seam, but the church's vesture was of divers
colors ; " whereupon he saith, " In veste varietas sit,
scissura non sit," ^ they be two things, unity and
uniformity; the other is, when the matter of the
point controverted is great, but it is driven to an
over-great subtilty and obscurity, so that it becometh
a thing rather ingenious than substantial. A man
that is of judgment and understanding shall some-
times hear ignorant men differ, and know well within
himself, that those which so differ mean one thing,
and yet they themselves would never agree ; and if
it come so to pass in that distance of judgment,
which is between man and man, shall we not think
that God above, that knows the heart, doth not dis-
cern that frail men, in some of their contradictions,

1 " In the garment there may be many colors, but let there be
no rending of it."

70 » ESSAYS.

intend the same thing, and accepteth of both ? The
nature of such controversies is excellently expressed
by St. Paul, in the warning and precept that he
giveth concerning the same : " Devita profanas vo-
cum novitates, et oppositiones falsi nominis scientise." ^
Men create oppositions which are not, and put them
into new terms, so fixed as, whereas the meaning
ought to govern the term, the term in effect govern-
eth the meaning. There be also two false peaces, or
unities ; the one, when the peace is grounded but
upon an implicit ignorance ; for all colors will agree
in the dark ; the other, when it is pieced up upon
a direct admission of contraries in fundamental
points; for truth and falsehood, in such things, are
like the iron and clay in the toes of Nebuchad-
nezzar's image ; ^ they may cleave, but they will not
incorporate.

Concerning the means of procuring unity, men
must beware that, in the procuring or muniting of
religious unity, they do not dissolve and deface the
laws of charity and of human society. There be
two swords amongst Christians, the spiritual and
temporal, and both have their due office and place
in the maintenance of religion ; but we may not
take up the third sword, which is Mahomet's sword,*

1 " Avoid profane and vain babblings, and oppositions of science,
falsely so called." — 1 Tim. vi. 20.

2 He alludes to the dream of Nebuchadnezzar, significant of the
limited duration of his kingdom. — See Daniel ii. 33, 41.

8 Mahomet proselytized by giving to the nations which he con-
quered, the option of the Koran or the sword.

OF UNITY IN RELIGION. * 71

or like unto it; that is, to propagate religion by
wars, or, by sanguinary persecutions, to force con-
sciences; except it be in cases of overt scandal,
blasphemy, or intermixture of practice against the
state ; much less to nourish seditions, to authorize
conspiracies and rebellions, to put the sword into
the people's hands, and the like, tending to the sub-
version of all government, which is the ordinance of
God ; for this is but to dash the first table against
the second, and so to consider men as Christians, as
we forget that they are men. Lucretius the poet,
when he beheld the act of Agamemnon, that could
endure the sacrificing of his own daughter, ex-
claimed ; —

" Tantum religio potuit suadere malorum." *

What would he have said, if he had known of
the massacre in France,^ or the powder treason of
England ? ^ He would have been seven times more
epicure and atheist than he was ; for as the tempo-

^ " To deeds so dreadful could religion prompt." The poet refers
to the sacrifice hy Agamemnon, the Grecian leader, of his daughter
Iphigenia, with the view of appeasing the wrath of Diana. —
Lucret. i. 96.

2 He alludes to the massacre of the Huguenots, or Protestants,
in France, which took place on St. Bartholomew's day, August
24, 1572, by the order of Charles IX. and his mother, Catherine
de Medici. On this occasion about 60,000 persons perished,
including the Admiral De Coligny, one of the most virtuous
men that France possessed, and the main stay of the Protestant
cause.

8 More generally known as " The Gunpowder Plot."

72 ESSAYS.

ml sword is to be drawn with great circumspection
in cases of religion, so it is a thing monstrous to
put it into the hands of the common people ; let
that be left unto the Anabaptists, and other furies.
It was great blasphemy when the devil said, "I
will ascend and be like the Highest ; " ^ but it is
greater blasphemy to personate God, and bring him
in saying, " I will descend, and be like the prince
of darkness ; " and what is it better, to make the
cause of religion to descend to the cruel and exe-
crable actions of murdering princes, butchery of
people, and subversion of states and governments?
Surely, this is to bring down the Holy Ghost, in-
stead of the likeness of a dove, in the shape of a
vulture or raven ; and to set out of the bark of a
Christian church a flag of a bark of pirates and
assassins; therefore, it is most necessary that the
church by doctrine and decree, princes by their
sword, and all learnings, both Christian and moral,
as by their Mercury rod,^ do damn and send to hell
forever those facts and opinions tending to the sup-
port of the same, as hath been already in good
part done. Surely, in counsels concerning religion,
that counsel of the apostle would be prefixed : " Ira
hominis non implet justitiam Dei ; " ^ and it was

1 Isa. xiv. 14.

2 Allusion is made to the " caduceus," with which Mercury,
the messenger of the Gods, summoned the souls of the departed
to the infernal regions.

' " The wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God."
— Jamea i. 20.

OF REVENGE. 73

a notable observation of a wise father, and no
less ingenuously confessed, that those which held
and persuaded pressure of consciences, were com-
monly interested therein themselves for their own
ends.

TV. — OF REVENGE.

Revenge is a kind of wild justice, which the
more man's nature runs to, the more ought law to
weed it out ; for as for the first wrong, it doth but
offend the law, but the revenge of that wrong, put-
yteth the law out of office. Certainly, in taking \
/revenge, a man is but even with his enemy, but in /
I passing it over, he is superior; for it is a prince's/
part to pardon; and Solomon, I am sure, saith, " It
is the glory of a man to pass by an offence." That
which is past is gone and irrevocable, and wise men
have enough to do with things present and to come ;
therefore they do but trifle with themselves that
labor in past matters. There is no man doth a
wrong for the wrong's sake, but thereby to purchase
himself profit, or pleasure, or honor, or the like;
therefore, why should I be angry with a man for
loving himself better than me? And if any man
should do wrong merely out of ill-nature, why, yet
it is but like the thorn or briar, which prick and
scratch, because they can do no other. The most
tolerable sort of revenge is for those wrongs which

74 ^ ESSAYS.

there is no law to remedy ; but then, let a man take
heed the revenge be such as there is no law to
punish, else a man's enemy is still beforehand, and
it is two for one. Some, when they take revenge,
are desirous the party should know whence it Com-
eth. This is the more generous; for the delight
seemeth to be not so much in doing the hurt as
in making the party repent; but base and cmfty
cowards are like the arrow that flieth in the dark.
Cosmus, Duke of Florence,^ had a desperate saying
against perfidious or neglecting friends, as if those
wrongs were unpardonable. " You shall read," saith
he, " that we are commanded to forgive our enemies ;
but you never read that we are commanded to for-
give our friends." But yet the spirit of Job was
in a better tune : " Shall we," saith he, " take good
at God's hands, and not be content to take evil
also ? " 2 and so of friends in a proportion. This is
certain, that a man that studieth revenge keeps his
own wounds green, which otherwise would heal
.and do well. Public revenges^ are for the most/
part fortmiate; as that for the death of Ca3sar;*

1 He alludes to Cosmo de Medici, or Cosmo I., chief of the Re-
public of Florence, the encourager of literature and the fine arts.

2 Job ii. 10. — "Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and
shall we not receive evil ? "

* By "public revenges," he means punishment awarded by the
state with the sanction of the laws.

* He alludes to the retribution dealt by Augustus and Anthony
to the murderers of Julius Csesar. It is related by ancient his-
torians, as a singular fact, that not one of them died a natural
death.

OF ADVERSITY. 75

for the death of Pertinax ; for the death of Henry
the Third of France;^ and many more. But in
private revenges it is not so ; nay, rather, vindictive
persons live the life of witches, who, as they are
mischievous, so end they unfortunate.

v. — OF ADVERSITY.

It was a high speech of Seneca (after the man-
ner of the Stoics), that "the good things which
belong to prosperity are to be wished, but the good
things that belong to adversity are to be admired."
(" Bona rerum secundarum optabilia, adversarum
mirabilia.") ^ Certainly, if miracles be the com-
mand over nature, they appear most in adversity.
It is yet a higher speech of his than the other
(much too high for a heathen), " It is true greatness
to have in one the frailty of a man, and the security
of a God." ("Vere magnum habere fragilitatem
hominis securitatem Dei.") ^ This would have done

^ Henry III. of France was assassinated in 1599, by Jacques
Clement, a Jacobin monk, in the frenzy of fanaticism. Although
Clement justly suffered punishment, the end of this bloodthirsty
and bigoted tyrant may be justly deemed a retribution dealt by
the hand of an offended Providence ; so truly does the Poet
say : —

"neque enim lex aequior ulla
Quam necis artifices arte perire sua."

2 Sen. Ad Lucil. 66. « Ibid. 63.

76 ESSAYS.

better in poesy, where transcendencies are more
allowed, and the poets, indeed, have been busy with
it ; for it is, in effect, the thing which is figured in that
strange fiction of the ancient poets,^ which seemeth
not to be without mystery; nay, and to have some
approach to the state of a Christian, " that Hercules,
when he went to unbind Prometheus (by whom
human nature is represented), sailed the length of
the great ocean in an earthen pot or pitcher," lively
describing Christian resolution, that saileth in the
frail_bark of the fle^h through the waves of the
world. But to speak in a mean, the virtue of
prosperity is temperance, the virtue of adversity is
fortitude, which in morals is the more heroical virtue.>
Prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testament,
adversity is the blessing of the New, which carrieth^
the greater benediction, and the clearer revelation
of God's favor. Yet even in the Old Testament,
if you listen to David's harp, you shall hear as many
hearse-like airs ^ as carols ; and the pencil of the

* Stesichorus, Apollodorus, and others. Lord Bacon makes a
similar reference to this myth in his treatise "On the Wisdom of
the Ancients." "It is added with great elegance, to console and
strengthen the minds of men, that this mighty hero (Hercules)
sailed in a cup or ' urceus,' in order that thej' may not too much
fear and allege the narrowness of their nature and its frailty ;
as if it were not capable of such fortitude and constancy ; of which
very thing Seneca argued well, when he said, * It is a great thing
to have at the same time the frailty of a man, and the security
of a God. * "

2 Funereal airs. It must be remembered that many of the
Psalms of David were written by him when persecuted by Saul,

OF ADVERSITY. 77

Holy Ghost hath labored more in describing the
afflictions of Job than the felicities of Solomon.
Prosperity is not without many fears and distastes ;
and adversity is not without comforts and hopes.
We see, in needleworks and embroideries, it is more
pleasing to have a lively work upon a sad and
solemn ground, than to have a dark and melancholy
work upon a lightsome ground: judge, therefore,
of the pleasure of the heart by the pleasure of the
eye. Certainly, virtue is like__preciQiis__odprs, most
fragrant when they are incensed, or crushed; for\

J prosperity doth best discover vice, but adversity )

\ doth best discover virtue.^

as also in the tribulation caused by the wicked conduct of his
son Absalom. Some of them, too, though called ' ' The Psalms of
David," were really composed by the Jews in their captivity at
Babylon ; as, for instance, the 137th Psalm, which so beautifully
commences, " By the waters of Babylon there we sat down."
One of them is supposed to be the composition of Moses.

^ This fine passage, beginning at ' ' Prosperity is the blessing, "
which was not published till 1625, twenty-eight years after the
first Essays, has been quoted by Macaulay, with considerable
justice, as a proof that the writer's fancy did not decay with the
advance of old age, and that his style in his later years became
richer and softer. The learned critic contrasts this passage with
the terse style of the Essay of Studies (Essay 50), which was
published in 1597.

78 ESSAYS.

VI.— OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION,

Dissimulation is but a faint kind of policy, or
wisdom ; for it asketh a strong wit and a strong
heart to know when to tell truth, and to do it ;
therefore it is the weaker sort of politicians that are
the great dissemblers.

Tacitus saith, " Li via sorted well with the arts of
her husband, and dissimulation of her son ; ^ attri-
buting arts or policy to Augustus, and dissimulation
to Tiberius : " and again, when Mucianus encour-
ageth Vespasian to take arms against Vitellius, he
saith, "We rise not against the piercing judgment
of Augustus, nor the extreme caution or closeness
of Tiberius." ^ These properties of arts or policy,
and dissimulation or closeness, are indeed habits and
faculties several, and to be distinguished ; for if a
man have that penetration of judgment as he can dis-
cern what things are to be laid open, and what to
be secreted, and what to be showed at half-lights, and
to whom and when (which indeed are arts of state,
and arts of life, as Tacitus well calleth them), to
him a habit of dissimulation is a hinderance and a
poorness. But if a man cannot obtain to that judg-
ment, then it is left to him generally to be close, and
a dissembler ; for where a man cannot choose or vary
in particulars, there it is good to take the safest and
wariest way in general, like the going softly by one

1 Tac. Ann. v. 1. » Tac. Hist. ii. 76.

OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION. 79

that cannot well see. Certainly, the ablest men that
ever were, have had aU an openness and frankness
of dealing, and a name of certainty and veracity :
but then they were like_horses well managed, for
they could tell passing well when to stop or turn ;
and at such times, when they thought the case indeed
required dissimulation, if then they used it, it came
to pass that the former opinion spread abroad, of
their good faith and clearness of dealing, made them
almost invisible.

There be three degrees of this hiding and veiling
of a man's self: the first, closeness, reservation, and
secrecy ; when a man leaveth himself without obser-
vation, or without hold to be taken, what he is :
the second, dissimulation in the negative ; when a
man lets fall signs and arguments, that he is not
that he is : and the third, simulation in the affinna-
tive ; when a man industriously and expressly feigns
and pretends to be that he is not.

For the first of these, secrecy, it is indeed the
virtue of a confessor ; and assuredly the secret man
hcareth many confessions ; for who will open himself
to a blab or a babbler? But if a man be thought
secret, it inviteth discovery, as the more close air
sucketh in the more open ; and, as in confession,
the revealing is not for worldly use, but for the ease
of a man's heart, so secret men come to the knowl-
edge of many things in that kind ; while men rather
discharge their minds than impart their minds. In
few words, mysteries are due to secrecy. Besides

80 ESSAYS.

(to say truth), nakedness is uncomely, as well in
mind as body ; and it addeth no small reverence to
men's manners and actions, if they be not altogether
open. As for talkers and futile persons, they are
commonly vain and credulous withal ; for he that
talketh what he knoweth, will also talk what he
knoweth not; therefore set it down, that a habit
of secrecy is both politic and moral : and in this part
it is good that a man's face give his tongue leave
to speak ; for the discovery of a man's self by the
tracts ^ of his countenance, is a great weakness and
betraying, by how much it is many times more
marked and believed than a man's words.

For the second^jw^hichj^ dissimulation, it followeth
many times upon secrecy by a necessity ; so that he
that will be secret must be a dissembler in some
degree ; for men are too cunning to suffer a man to
keep an indifferent carriage between both, and to
be secret, without swaying the balance on either side.
They will so beset a man with questions, and draw
him on, and pick it out of him, that without an
absurd silence, he must show an inclination one
way ; or if be do not, they will gather as much by
his silence as by his speech. As for equivocations,
or oraculous speeches, they cannot hold out long :
so that no man can be secret, except he give himself
a little scope of dissimulation, which is, as it were,
but the skirts or train of secrecy.

But for the third degree, which is simulation and

* A word now unused, signifying the " traits," or " features."

OP SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION. 81

false profession, that I hold more culpable, and less
politic, except it be in great and rare matters ; and,
therefore, a general custom of simulation (which is
this last degree) is a vice rising either of a natural
falseness, or fearfulness, or of a mind that hath some
main faults ; which because a man must needs dis-
guise, it maketh him practise simulation in other
things, lest his hand should be out of use.

The advantages of simulation and dissimulation
are three : first, to lay asleep opposition, and to sur-
prise; for, where a man's intentions are published,
it is an alarum to call up all that are against them :
the second is, to reserve to a man's self a fair retreat ;
for if a man engage himself by a manifest declarar
tion, he must go through or take a fall : the third
is, the better to discover the mind of another ; for
to him that opens himself men will hardly show
themselves adverse ; but will (fair) let him go on,
and turn their freedom of speech to freedom of
thought ; and therefore it is a good shrewd proverb
of the Spaniard, " Tell a lie, and find a troth ; " ^
as if there were no way of discovery but by simu-
lation. There be also three disadvantages to set it
even ; the first, that simulation and dissimulation
commonly carry with them a show of fearfulness,
which, in any business, doth spoil the feathers of
round flying up to the mark ; the second, that it
puzzleth and perplexeth the conceits of many, that,
perhaps, would otherwise cooperate with him, and

1 A truth. —A.L. II. xxiii, 14.
6

82 ESSAYS.

makes a man walk almost alone to his own ends :
the third, and greatest, is, that it depriveth a man
of one of the most principal instruments for action,
which is trust and belief. The best composition and
temperature is, to have openness in fame and opin-
ion, secrecy in habit, dissimulation in seasonable use,
.and a power to feign if there be no remedy.

VII. — OF PARENTS AND CHILDREN.

The joys of parents are secret, and so are their
griefs and fears ; they cannot utter the one, nor they
will not utter the other. Children sweeten labors,
^ut they make misfortunes more bitter ; they in-
crease the cares of life, ]^ they mitigate the re-
membrance of death. The perpetuity by generation
is common to beasts ; but memory, merit, and noble
works, are proper to men : aad^rely a man shall
see the noblest works and foundations have pro-
ceeded from childless men, which have sought to
express the images of their minds where those of
their bodies have failed ; so the care of posterity is
most in them that have no posterity. They that are
the first raisers of their houses are most indulgent
towards their children, beholding them as the con-
tinuance, not only of their kind, but of their work ;
and^^o^both children and creatures.

The difference in afiection of parents towards their
several children is many times unequal, aud some-

OF PARENTS AND CHILDREN. 83

times unworthy, especially in the mother; as Solo-
mon saith, "A wise son rejoiceth the father, but
an ungracious son shames the mother."^ A man
shall see, where there is a house full of children,
one or two of the eldest respected, and the youngest
made wantons;^ but in the midst some that are,
as it were, forgotten, who many times, nevertheless,
prove the best. The illiberality of parents, in al-
lowance towards their children, is a harmful error,
makes them base, acquaints them with shifts, makes
them sort with mean company, and makes them
surfeit more when they come to plenty ; and, there-
fore, the proofs is best when men keep their au-
thority towards their children, but not their purse.
Men have a foolish manner (both parents, and
schoolmasters, and servants), in creating and breed-
ing an emulation between brothers during childhood,
which many times sorteth* to discord when they
are men, and disturbeth families.^ The Italians

1 Proverbs x. 1 : "A wise son maketh a glad father, but a
foolLsh son is the heaviness of his mother."

' Petted — spoiled.

8 This word seems here to mean "a plan," or "method," as
proved by its results.

* Ends in.

^ There is considerable justice in this remark. Children should
be taught to do what is right for its own sake, and because it is
their duty to do so, and not that they may have the selfish
gratification of obtaining the reward which their companions have
failed to secure, and of being led to tliink themselves superior to
their companions. When launched upon the world, emulation
will be quite sufficiently forced upon them by stem necessity.

84 ESSAYS,

make little difference between children and nephews,
or near kinsfolk ; but so they be of the lump, they
care not, though they pass not through their own
body ; and,jto_jay_truth, in nature it is much a like
matter; insomuch that we see a nephew sometimes
resembleth an uncle or a kinsman more than his
own parent, as the blood happens. Let parents
choose betimes the vocations and courses they mean
their children should take, for then they are most
flexible; and let them not too much apply them-
selves to the disposition of their children, as thinking
they will take best to that which they have most
mind to. It is true, that if the affection or aptness
of the children be extraordinary, then it is good not
to cross it ; but generally the precept is good, " Opti-
mum elige, suave et facile illud faciet consuetudo." ^
— Younger brothers are commonly fortunate, but
seldom or never where the elder are disinherited.

M^III. — OF MARRIAGE AND SINGLE LIFE.

He that hath wife and children hath given hos-
tages to fortune ; for they are impediments to great
enterprises, either of virtue or mischief. Certainly
the best works, and of greatest merit for the public,
have proceeded from the unmarried or childless men,

1 "Select thai course of life which is the most advantageotis ;
habit will soon render it pleasant and easily endured."

OF MARRIAGE AND SINGLE LIFE. 85

^ich, both in aiFection and means, have married
and endowed the public. Yet it were great reason
that those that have children should have greatest
care of future times, unto which they know they
must transmit their dearest pledges. Some there
are who, though they lead a single life, yet their
thoughts do end with themselves, and account future
times impertinences ; nay, there are some other that
account wife and children but as bills of charges ;
nay more, there are some foolish, rich, covetous men,
that take a pride in having no children, because
they may be thought so much the richer ; for, per-
haps they have heard some talk, "Such an one is
a great rich man," and another except to it, " Yea,
but he hath a great charge of children ; " as if it
were an abatement to his riches. But the most
ordinary cause of a single life is liberty, especially
in certain self-pleasing and humorous minds, which
are so sensible of every restraint, as_the^_will go
near to think their girdles and garters to be bonds
and shackles. Unmarried men are best friends, best
masters, best servants ; but not always best subjects,
for they are light to run away, and almost all fugi-
tives are of that condition. A single life doth well
with churchmen, for charity^ will Jiardly_water the
ground where it must first^M^^^gooI.^ It is indiffer- ,
ent for judges and magistrates ; for if they be facile

1 His meaning is, that if clergymen have the expenses of a
family to support, they will hardly find means for the exercise
of benevolence toward their parishioners.

86 ESSAYS.

and corrupt, you shall have a servant five times
worse than a wife. For soldiers, I find the generals
commonly, in their hortatives, put men in mind of
their wives and children ; and I think the despising
of marriage amongst the Turks maketh the vulgar
fSoldier more base. Certainly, wife and children are
a kind of discipline of humanity ; and single men,
though they be many times more charitable, because
their means are less exhaust, yet, on the other side,
they are more cruel and hard-hearted (good to make
severe inquisitors), because their tenderness is not
so oft called upon. Grave natures, led by custom,
and therefore constant, are commonly loving hus-
bands, as was said of Ulysses, " Vetulam suam prae-
tulit immortalitati." ^ Chaste women are often proud
and froward, as presuming upon the merit of their
chastity. It is one of the best bonds, both of chas-
tity and obedience, in the wife, if she tliink her
husband wise, which she will never do if she find
him jealous. Wives are young men's mistresses,
companions for middle age, and old men's nurses,
so as a man may have a quarrel^ to marry when
he will ; but yet he was reputed one of the wise men
that made answer to the question when a man
should marry, "A young man not yet, an elder

1 " He preferred his aged wife Penelope to iimnortality." This
was when Ulysses was entieatetl by the goddess Calypso to give
up all thoughts of returning to Ithaca, and to remain with her
iu the enjoyment of immortality. — PhU. Gryll, 1.

2 «< May have a pretext," or " excuae."

OF ENVY. 87

man not at all." ^ It is often seen that bad hus-
bands have very good wives ; whether it be that it
raiseth the price of their husbands' kindness when
it comes, or that the wives take a pride in their
patience ; but this never fails, if the bad husbands
were of their own choosing, against their friends'
consent, for then they will be sure to make good
their own folly.

v:.

IX. — OF ENVY.

THERE_bejiQllfi.of the affections which have been
noted to fascinate or bewitch, butjlove and envy.
They both have vehement wishes ; they frame them-
selves readily into imaginations and suggestions, and
they come easily into the eye, especially upon the ,
presence of the objects which are the points that
conduce to fascination, if any such thing there be.
We see, likewise, the Scripture calleth envy an evil
eye ; ^ and the astrologers call the evil influences of

1 Thales, Vide Diog. Laert. i. 26.

2 So prevalent in ancient times was the notion of the injurious
effects of the eye of envy, that, in common parlance, the Romans
generally used the word " prcefiscini," — *' without risk of enchant-
ment," or "fascination," when they spoke in high terms of them-
selves. They supposed that they thereby averted the effects of
enchantment produced by the evil eye of any envious person who
might at that moment possibly be looking upon them. Lord
Bacon probably here alludes to St. Mark vii. 21, 22 : " Out ot
the heart of men proceedeth — deceit, lasciviousness, an evil eye."
Solomon also speaks of the evil eye, Prov. xxiii. 6, and xxviii. 22.

88 ESSAYS.

the stars evil aspects ; so that still there seemeth to
be acknowledged, in the act of envy, an ejaculation,
or irradiation of the eye ; nay, some have been so
curious as to note that the times, when the stroke or
percussion of an envious eye doth most hurt, are,
when the party envied is beheld in glory or triumph,
for that sets an edge upon envy; and besides, at
such times, the spirits of the person envied do come
forth most into the outward parts, and so meet the
blow.

But, leaving these curiosities (though not un-
worthy to be thought on in fit place), we will handle
what persons are apt to envy others ; what persons
are most subject to be envied themselves ; and what
is the difference between public and private envy.

A man that hath no virtue in himself, ever envi-
eth ^drtue in others ; for men's minds will either
feed upon their own good, or upon others' evil ; and
who wanteth the one will prey upon the other ; and
whoso is out of hope to attain to another's virtue,
will seek to come at even hand^ by depressing
another's fortune.

A man that is J)usj_aiid inquisitive, is commonly
envious ; for to know much of other men's matters
cannot be, because all that ado may concern his
own estate ; therefore, it must needs be that he
taketh a kind of play-pleasure in looking upon the
fortunes of others ; neither can he that mindeth but
his own business find much matter for envy ; for

1 To 1)6 even with him.

OF ENVY. 89

envy is a gadding passion, and walketh the streets^
and doth not keep home : " Non est curiosus, quin
idem sit malevolus." ^

Men of noble birth are noted to be envious to-
wards new men when they rise, for the distance is
altered; and it is like a deceit of the eye, that
when others come on they think themselves go back.

Deformed pereons jLnd_eimuchs, and old men and
bastards, are envious ; for he that cannot possibly
mend his own case, will do what he can to impair
another's; except these defects light upon a very
brave and heroical nature, which thinketh to make
his natural wants part of his honor ; in that it
should be said, "That a eunuch, or a lame man,
did such great matters," affecting the honor of a
miracle ; as it was in Narses ^ the eunuch, and Ages-
ilaus and Tamerlane,^ that were lame men.

1 "There is no person a busybody, but what he is ill-natured
too. " This passage is from the Stichus of Plautus.

'^ Narses supei-seded Belisarius in the command of the armies
of Italy, by the orders of the Emperor Justinian. He defeated
Totila, the king of the Goths (who had taken Rome), in a decisive
engagement, in which the latter was slain. He governed Italy with
consummate ability for thirteen years, when he was ungratefully
recalled by Justin the Second, the successor of Justinian.

8 Tamerlane, or Timour, was a native of Samarcand, of which
territory he was elected emperor. He overran Persia, Georgia,
Hindostan, and captured Bajazet, the valiant Sultan of the Turks,
at the battle of Angora, 1402, whom he is said to have inclosed
in a cage of iron. His conquests extended from the Irtish and
Volga to the Persian Gulf, and from the Ganges to the Grecian
Archipelago. While preparing for the invasion of China, he died,
in the 70th year of his age, A. D. 1405. He was tall and corpulent

90 ESSAYS.

The same is the case of men that rise after calami-
ties and misfortunes ; for they are as men fallen out
with the times, and think other men's harms a re-
demption of their own sufferings.

They that desirejto_exce]_Jii_too_nm matters, out
of levity and vainglory, are ever envious, for they
cannot want work ; it being impossible but many, in
some one of those things, should surpass them;
which was the character of Adrian the emperor, that
mortally envied poets and painters, and artificers in
works, wherein he had a vein to excel.^

Lastly, near kinsfolk, and fellows in office, and
those that have been bred together, are more apt
to envy their equals when they are raised; for it
doth upbraid unto them their own fortunes, and
pointeth at them, and cometh oftener into their
remembrance, and incurreth likewise more into the
note ^ of others ; and envy ever redoubleth from
speech and fame. Cain's envy was the more vile
and malignant towards his brother Abel, because
when his sacrifice was better accepted, there was
nobody to look on. Thus much for those that are
apt to envy.

Concerning those that are more or less subject to
envy : First, persons of eminent virtue, when they
are advanced, are less envied, for their fortune
seemeth but due unto them; and no man envieth

in person, but was maimed in one hand, and lame on the right
side.

* Spartian Vit. Adrian, 15.

' Comes under the observation.

OF ENVY. 91

the payment of a debt, but rewards and liberality
rather. Again, envy is ever joined with the com-
paring of a man's self; and where there is no
comparison, no envy; and therefore kings are not
envied but by kings. Nevertheless, it is to be noted,
that unworthy persons are most envied at their
first coming in, and afterwards overcome it better ;
whereas, contrariwise, persons of worth and merit
are most envied when their fortune continueth long ;
for by that time, though their virtue be the same,
yet it hath not the same lustre ; for fresh men grow
up that darken it.

Persons of noble blood are less envied in their
rising ; for it seemeth but right done to their birth :
besides, there seemeth not so much added to their
fortune ; and envy is as the sunbeams, that beat
hotter upon a bank or steep rising ground, than
upon a flat; and, for the same reason, those that
are advanced by degrees are less envied than those
that are advanced suddenly, and per saltum}

Those that have joined with their honor great
travels, cares, or perils, are less subject to envy; for
men think that they earn their honors hardly, and
pity them sometimes, and pity ever_healeth envy.
Wherefore you shaUjjbserve, that the more deep
and 8ober~soirtorpolitic persons, in their greatness,
are ever bemoaning themselves what a life they lead,
chanting a quanta patimur ;^ not that they feel

^ "By a leap," i. e. over the heads of othera.
2 " How vast the evils we endure."

92 ESSAYS.

it so, jbut only to abate the edge of envy ; ^t this
is to be understood of business that is laid upon
men, and not such as they call unto themselves ;
for nothing increaseth envy more than an unneces-
sary and ambitious engrossing of business ; and noth-
ing doth extinguish envy more than for a great
person to preserve all other inferior officers in their
full rights and preeminences of their places; for,
by that means, there be so many screens between
him and envy.

Above all, those are most subject to envy, which
carry the greatness of their fortunes in an insolent
and proud manner; being never well but while
they are showing how great they are, either by out-
ward pomp, or by triumphing over all opposition
or competition. Whereas wise men will rather do
sacrifice to envy, in suffering themselves, sometimes
of purpose, to be crossed and overborne in things
that do not much concern them. Notwithstanding,
so much is true, that the carriage of greatness in a
plain and open manner (so it be without arrogancy
and vainglory), doth draw less envy than if it be
in a more crafty and cunning fashion; for in that
course a man doth but disavow fortune, and seem-
eth to be conscious of his own want in worth, and
doth but teach others to envy him.

Lastly, to conclude this part, as we said in the
beginning that the act of envy had somewhat in it
of witchcraft, so there is no other cure of envy
but the cure of witchcraft ; and that is, to remove

OF ENVY. 93

the lot (as they call it), and to lay it upon another ;
for which purpose, the wiser sort of great persons
bring in ever upon the stage somebody upon whom
to derive the envy that would come upon them-
selves ; sometimes upon ministers and servants,
sometimes upon colleagues and associates, and the
like; and, for that turn, there are never wanting
some persons of violent and undertaking natures,
who, so they may have power and business, will
take it at any cost.

Now, to speak of public envy : there is yet some
good in public envy, whereas in private there is
none; for public envy is as an ostracism,^ that
eclipseth men when they grow too great ; and there-
fore it is a bridle also to great ones, to keep them
within bounds.

This envy, being in the Latin word invidia^ goeth
in the modern languages by the name of discontent-
ment, of which we shall speak in handling sedition.
It is a disease in a state like to infection; for as
infection spreadeth upon that which is sound, and
tainteth it, so, when envy is gotten once into a
state, it traduceth even the best actions thereof, and
turneth them into an ill odor; and therefore there
is little won by intermingling of plausible actions ;
for that doth ai^ue but a weakness and fear of envy,

^ He probably alludes to the custom of the Athenians, who
frequently ostracized or banished by vote their public men, lest
they should become too powerful.

2 From in and video, — "to look upon;" with reference to
the so-called "evil eye" of the envious.

94 ESSAYS.

which hurteth so much the more, as it is likewise
usual in infections, which, if you fear them, you
call them upon you.

This public envy seemeth to beat chiefly upon
principal officers or ministers, rather than upon
kings and estates themselves. But this is a sure
rule, that if the envy upon the minister be great,
when the cause of it in him is small ; or if the envy
be general in a manner upon all the ministers of
an estate, then the envy (though hidden) is truly
upon the state itself. And so much of public envy
or discontentment, and the difference thereof from
private envy, which was handled in the first place.

We will add this in general, touching the affec-
tion of envy, that, of all other aflfections, it is the
most importune and continual; for of other aflfec-
tions there is occasion given but now and then ;
and therefore it was well said, " Invidia festos dies
non agit : " ^ for it is ever working upon some or
other. And it is also noted, that love and envy do
make a man pine, which other aflfections do not,
because they are not so continual. It is also the
vilest aflfection, and the most depraved ; for which
cause it is the proper attribute of the devil, who
is called "The envious man, that soweth tares
amongst the wheat by night ;"2 as it always com-
eth to pass that envy worketh subtilely, and in the
4a£kj. and to the prejudice of good things, such as
is the wheat.

1 "Envy keeps uo holidays." ^ See St. Matthew xiii. 25.

OF LOVE. 95

Vx. — OF LOVE.

The stage is more beholding^ to love than the
life of man ; fpr^as to the stage, love is ever matter
of comedies, and now and then of tragedies ; but_in
life it doth much mischief, sometimes like a Siren,
sometimes like a Fury. You may observe, that,
amongst all the great and worthy persons (whereof
the memory remaineth, either ancient or recent),
there is not one that hath been transported to the
mad degree of love, which shows that great spirits
and great business do keep out this weak passion.
You must except, nevertheless, Marcus Antonius,
the half partner of the empire of Rome, and Ap-
pius Claudius,^ the decemvir and lawgiver ; whereof
the former was indeed a voluptuous man, and inor-
dinate, but the latter was an austere and wise man ;
and therefore it seems (though rarely) that love
can find entrance, not only into an open heart, but
also into a heart well fortified, if watch be not well
kept. It is a poor saying of Epicurus, "Satis
magnum alter alteri theatrum sumus ; " ^ as if man,

1 Beholden.

2 He iniquitously attempted to obtain possession of the person
of Virginia, who was killed by her father Virginius, to prevent
her from falling a victim to his lust. This circumstance caused
the fall of the Decemviri at Kome, who had been employed in
framing the code of laws afterwards known as "The Laws of the
Twelve Tables." They narrowly escaped being burned alive by
the infuriated populace.

8 "We are a sufficient theme for contemplation, the one for

96 ESSAYS.

made for the contemplation of heaven and all noble
objects, should do nothing but kneel before a little
idol, and make himself subject, though not of the
mouth (as beasts are) yet of the eye, which was
given him for higher puq)oses. It is a strange
thing to note the excess of this passion, and how it
braves the nature and value of things, by this, that
the speaking in a perpetual hyperbole is comely in
nothing but in love, neither is it merely in the
phrase ; for whereas it hath been well said, " That
the arch flatterer, with whom all the petty flatterers
have intelligence, is a man's self;" certainly, the
' lover is more ; for there was never proud man
thought so absurdly well of himself as the lover
doth of the person loved ; and therefore it was well
said, "That it is impossible to love and to be wise." ^
Neither doth this weakness appear to others only,
and not to the party loved, but to the loved most of
all, except the love be reciprocal ; for it is a true
rule, that love is ever rewarded, either with the

the other." — Sen. Epist. Mor. 1. 7. (A. L. 1. iii. 6.) Pope seems,
notwithstanding this censure of Bacon, to have been of the same
opinion with Epicurus : —

" Know then thyself, presume not God to scan,
The proper study for mankind is man."

Essay on Man, £p. ii. 1. 3.

Indeed, Lord Bacon seems to have misunderstood the saying of
Epicurus, who did not mean to recommend man as the sole
object of the bodily vision, but as the proper theme for mental
contemplation.

1 Amare et sapere vix Deo conceditur. — Pub. Syr. Sent. 15.
(A. L. ii. prooe. 10.)

OF LOVE. 97

reciprocal, or mth an inward and secret contempt ;
by how much the more men ought to beware of this
passion, which loseth not only other things, but
itself. As for the other losses, the poet's relation ^
doth well figure them : " That he that preferred
Helena, quitted the gifts of Juno and Pallas ; " for
whosoever esteemeth too much of amorous affec-
tion, quitteth both riches and wisdom. This passion
hath his floods in the very times of weakness, which
are, great prosperity and great adversity, though
this latter hath been less observed; both which
times kindle love, and make it more fervent, and
therefore show it to be the child of folly. They do >
best who, if they cannot but admit love, yet make
it keep quarter, and sever it wholly from their
serious affairs and actions of life ; for if it check '
once with business, it troubleth men's fortunes, and
maketh men that they can nowise be true to their
own ends. I know not how, but martial men are
given to love ; I think it is, but as they are given
to wine, for perils commonly ask to be paid in
pleasures. There is in man's nature a secret incli-
nation and motion towards love of others, which, if
it be not spent upon some one or a few, doth natu-
rally spread itself towards many, and maketh men
become humane and charitable, as it is seen some-
times in friars. Nuptial love maketh mankind,
friendly love perfecteth it, but wanton love cor-
rupteth and embaseth it.

^ He refers here to the judgment of Paris, mentioned by Ovid

in his Epistles, of the Heroines.

ESSAYS.

XL — OF GREAT PLACE.i

Men in great place are thrice servants — servants
of the sovereign or state, servants of fame, and ser-
vants of business ; so as they have no freedom,
neither in their persons, nor in their actions, nor
in their times. It is a strange desire to seek power
and to lose liberty; or to seek power over others,
and to lose power over a man's self. The rising
unto place is laborious, and by pains men come to
greater pains ; and it is sometimes base, and by
indignities men come to dignities. The standing is
slippery, and the regress is either a downfall, or at
least an eclipse, which is a melancholy thing : " Cum
non sis qui fueris, non esse cur velis vivere. " ^ Nay,
retire men cannot when they would, neither will
they when it were reason ; but are impatient of
privateness even in age and sickness, which require
the shadow; like old townsmen, that will be still
sitting at their street door, though thereby they
offer age to scorn. Certainly, great persons had
need to borrow other men's opinions to think them-
selves happy ; for if they judge by their own feeling,
they cannot find it; but if they think with them-
selves what other men think of them, and that
other men would fain be as they are, then they are

1 Montaigne has treated this subject before Bacon, under the
title of De I'iiicmmnodiU de la Grandeur (B. iii. ch. vii.).

2 " Since you are not what you were, there is no reason why you
should wish to live."

OF GREAT PLACE. 99

happy as it were by report, when, perhaps, they find
the contrary within ; for they are the first that find
their own griefs, though they be the last that find
their own faults. Certainly, men in great fortunes
are strangers to themselves, and while they are in
the puzzle of business, they have no time to tend
their health either of body or mind.

"Illi mors gravis incubat,
Qui notus nimis omnibus,
Ignotus moritur," ^ ^

In place, there is license to do good and evil,
whereof the latter is a curse ; for in evil, the best
condition is not to will, the second not to can. But
power to do good is the true and lawful end of
aspiring; for good thoughts, though God accept
them, yet towards men are little better than good
dreams, except they be put in act; and that can-
not be without power and place, as the vantage
and commanding ground. Merit and good works
are the end of man's motion, and conscience of the
same is the accomplishment of man's rest ; for if a
man can be partaker of God's theatre, he shall like-
wise be partaker of God's rest. " Et conversus Deus,
ut aspiceret opera, quae fecerunt manus suae, vidit
quod omnia essent bona nimis ;"2 and then the
Sabbath.

1 "Death presses heavily upon him, who, well known to all
others, dies unknown to himself." — Sen. Thyest. ii. 401.

2 " And God turned to behold the works which his hands had
made, and he saw that everything was very good." — See Gen. i. 31.

100 ESSAYS.

In the discharge of thy place, set before thee the
best examples ; for imitation is a globe of precepts,
/ and after a time set before thee thine o^vn example ;
I and examine thyself strictly whether thou didst not
Vbest at first. Neglect not also the examples of those
that have carried themselves ill in the same place ;
not to set off thyself by taxing their memory, but
to direct thyself what to avoid. Reform, therefore,
without bravery or scandal of fonner times and per-
sons ; but yet set it down to thyself, as well to create
good precedents as to follow them. Reduce things
to the first institution, and observe wherein and how
they have degenerated ; but yet ask counsel of both

C times — of the ancient time what is best, and of the
latter time what is fittest. Seek to make thy course
regular, that men may know beforehand what they
may expect; but be not too positive and peremp-
tory, and express thyself well when thou digressest
from thy rule. Preserve the right of thy place, but
stir not questions of jurisdiction ; and rather assume
thy right in silence, and de facto^ than voice it with
claims and challenges. Preserve likewise the rights
of inferior places ; and think it more honor to direct
in chief than to be busy in all. Embrace and invite
helps and advices touching the execution of thy
place ; and do not drive away such as bring thee
information, as meddlers, but accept of them in good
part. The vices of authority are chiefly four: de-
lays, corruption, roughness, and facility. For delays,

1 "As a matter of course."

OF GREAT PLACE. 101

give easy access, keep times appointed, go through
with that which is in hand, and interlace not busi-
ness but of necessity. For corruption, do not only
bind thine own hands or thy servant's hands from
taking, but bind the hands of suitors also from offer-
ing; for integrity used doth the one, but integrity
professed, and with a manifest detestation of bribery,
doth the other ; and avoid not only the fault, but the
suspicion. Whosoever is found variable, and chang-
eth manifestly without manifest cause, giveth sus-
picion of corruption ; therefore, always when thou
changest thine opinion or course, profess it plainly,
and declare it, together with the reasons that move
thee to change, and do not think to steal it. A
servant or a favorite, if he be inward, and no other
apparent cause of esteem, is commonly thought but
a by-way to close corruption. For roughness, it is
a needless cause of discontent : severity breedeth
fear, but roughness breedeth hate. Even reproofs
from authority ought to be grave, and not taunting.
As for facility,^ it is worse than bribery, for bribes
come but now and then ; but if importunity or idle
respects ^ lead a man, he shall never be without ; as
Solomon saith, " To respect persons is not good ; for
such a man will transgress for a piece of bread." ^

* Too great easiness of access.

2 Predilections that are undeserved.

' Proverbs xxviii. 21. The whole passage stands thus in our
version : "He that niaketh haste to be rich shall not be innocent.
To have respect of persons is not good ; for, for a piece of bread,
that man will transgress."

102 ESSAYS.

It is most trae that was anciently spoken : "A
place showeth the man ; and it showeth some to the
better, and some to the worse : " " Omnium consensu
capax imperii, nisi imperasset," ^ saith Tacitus of
Galba ; but of Vespasian he saith, " Solus impe-
rantium, Vespasianus mutatus in melius ; " ^ though
the one was meant of sufficiency, the other of man-
ners and affection. It is an assured sign of a worthy
and generous spirit, whom honor amends ; for honor
is, or should be, the place of virtue ; and as in nature
things move violently to their place, and calmly in
their place, so virtue in ambition is -vaolent, in
authority settled and calm. All rising to great place
is by a winding stair ; and if there be factions, it is
good to side a man's self whilst he is in the rising,
and to balance himself when he is placed. Use the
memory of thy predecessor fairly and tenderly ; for
if thou dost not, it is a debt will sure be paid when
thou art gone. If thou have colleagues, respect
them ; and rather call them when they look not for
it, than exclude them when they have reason to look
to be called. Be not too sensible or too remember-
ing of thy place in conversation and private answers
to suitors ; but let it rather be said, " When he sits
in place, he is another man."

1 " By the consent of all he was fit to govern, if he had not
governed."

* " Of the emperors, Vespasian alone changed for the better
after his accession." — Tax. Hist. i. 49, 50 (A. L. iL xxii. 5).

OF BOLDNESS. 103

XII. — OF BOLDNESS.

It is a trivial grammar-school text, but yet worthy
a wise man's consideration. Question was asked of
Demosthenes, what was the chief part of an orator ?
He answered, Action. What next ? — Action. What
next again? — Action.^ He said it that knew it
best, and had, by nature, himself no advantage in
that he commended. A strange thing, that that part
of an orator which is but superficial, and rather the
virtue of a player, should be placed so high above
those other noble parts of invention, elocution, and
the rest ; nay, almost alone, as if it were all in all.
But the reason is plain. There is in human nature
generally more of the fool than of the wise ; and
therefore, those faculties by which the foolish part
oi men's minds is taken are most potent. Wonder-
ful like is the case of boldness in civil business.
What first ? — Boldness : what second and third ? —
Boldness. And yet boldness is a child of ignorance
and baseness, far inferior to other parts ; but, never-
theless, it doth fascinate, and bind hand and foot
those that are either shallow in judgment or weak
in courage, which are the greatest part, yea, and
prevaileth with wise man at weak times ; therefore,
we see it hath done wonders in popular states, but
with senates and princes less, and more, ever upon
the first entrance of bold persons into action than

» Plut. vit Demosth. 17. 18.

104 ESSAYS.

soon after ; for boldness is an ill keeper of promise.
Surely, as there are mountebanks for the natural
body, so are there niountebanks for the politic body ;
men that undertake great cures, and perhaps have
been lucky in two or three experiments, but want
the grounds of science, and therefore cannot hold
out ; nay, you shall see a bold fellow many times do
Mahomet's miracle. Mahomet made the people
believe that he would call a hill to him, and from
the top of it offer up his prayers for the observers of
his law. The people assembled ; Mahomet called
the hill to come to him again and again ; and when
the hill stood still, he was never a whit abashed,
but said, " If the hill will not come to Mahomet,
Mahomet will go to the hill." So these men, when
they have promised great matters and failed most
shamefully, yet, if they have the perfection of boldness,
they will but slight it over, and make a turn, and no
more ado. Certainly, to men of great judgment,
bold persons are a sport to behold ; nay, and to the
vulgar also boldness hath somewhat of the ridiculous ;
for if absurdity be the subject of laughter, doubt you
not but great boldness is seldom without some ab-
surdity ; especially it is a sport to see when a bold
fellow is out of countenance, for that puts his face
into a most shrunken and wooden posture, as needs
it must ; for in bashfulness the spirits do a little go
and come, but with bold men, upon like occasion,
they stand at a stay ; like a stale at chess, where it
is no mate, but yet the game cannot stir ; but this

OF GOODNESS, ETC. 105

last were fitter for a satire than for a serious obser-
vation. This is well to be weighed, that boldness
is ever blind, for it seeth not dangers and incon-
veniences ; the'-efore, it is ill in counsel, good in exe-
cution ; so that the right use of bold persons is, that
they never command in chief, but be seconds and
under the direction of others ; for in counsel it is
good to see dangers ; and in execution not to see
them except they be very great.

XIII. —OF GOODNESS, AND GOODNESS OF
NATURE.

I TAKE goodness in this sense, the affecting of
the weal of men, which is that the Grecians call
philanthropia ; and the word humanity, as it is
used, is a little too light to express it. Goodness I
call the habit, and goodness of nature the inclina-
tion. This, of all virtues and dignities of the mind,
is the greatest, being the character of the Deity;
and without it man is a busy, mischievous, wretched
thing, no better than a kind of vennin. Goodness
answers to the theological virtue charity, and admits
ne excess but error. The desire of power in excess
caused the angels to fall ; * the desire of knowledge

^ It is not improbable that this passage suggested Pope's beauti*
ful lines in the Essay on Man, Ep. 1. 125-28.

" Pride still is aimintr at the blest abodes.
Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell,
Aspiring to be angels, men rebel."

106 ESSAYS.

in excess caused man to fall ; but in charity there
is no excess, neither can angel or man come in
danger by it. The inclination to goodness is im-
printed deeply in the nature of man. insomuch that
if it issue not towards men, it will '^ake unto other
living creatures ; as it is seen in the Turks, a cruel
people, who nevertheless are kind to beasts, and
give alms to dogs and birds; insomuch, as Busbe-
chius ^ reporteth, a Christian boy in Constantinople
had like to have been stoned for gagging in a wag-
gishness a long-billed fowl.^ Errors, indeed, in this

1 Auger Gislen Busbec, or Busbequius, a learned traveller,
born at Comines, in Flanders, in 1522. He was employed by
the Emperor Ferdinand as ambassador to the Sultan Solyman
II. He was aftenvards ambassador to Fi-ance, where he died, in
1592. His " Letters " relative to his travels in the East, which
are written in Latin, contain much interesting information. They
were the pocket companion of Gibbon, and are highly praised
by him.

^ In this instance the stork or crane was probably protected,
not on the abstract grounds mentioned in the text, but for reasons
of state policy and gratitude combined. In Eastern climates
the cranes and dogs are far more efficacious than human agency in
removing filth and offal, and thereby diminishing the chances of
pestilence. Superstition, also, may have formed another motive,
as we learn from a letter written from Adrianople, by Lady Mon-
tagu, in 1718, that storks were "held there in a sort of religious
reverence, because they are supposed to make every winter the
pilgrimage to Mecca. To say truth, they are the happiest subjects
under the Turkish government, and are so sensible of their privi-
leges, that they walk the streets without fear, and generally build
their nests in the lower parts of the houses. Happy are those
whose houses are so distinguished, as the vulgar Turks are ])er-
fectly persuaded that they will not be that year attacked either

OF GOODNESS, ETC. 107

virtue, of goodness or charity, may be committed.
The Italians have an ungracious proverb : " Tanto
buon che val niente ; " " So good, that he is good
for nothing ; " and one of the doctors of Italy, Nicho-
las Machiavel,^ had the confidence to put in writing,
almost in plain terms, " That the Christian faith had
given up good men in prey to those that are tyran-
nical and unjust ; "^ which he spake, because, indeed,
there was never law, or sect, or opinion did so much
magnify goodness as the Christian religion doth;
therefore, to avoid the scandal and the danger both,
it is good to take knowledge of the errors of a habit
so excellent. Seek the good of other men, but be
not in bondage to their faces or fancies ; for that is
but facility or softness, which taketh an honest mind

by fire or pestilence." Storks are still protected, by municipal law,
in Holland, and roam unmolested about the market-places.

^ Nicolo Machiavelli, a Florentine statesman. He wrote "Dis-
courses on the first Decade of Livy," which were conspicuous for
their liberality of sentiment, and just and profound reflections.
This work was succeeded by his famous treatise, "II Principe,"
" The Prince ; " his patron, Csesar Borgia, being the model of the
perfect prince there described by him. The whole scope of this
work is directed to one object — the maintenance of pov/er, however
acquired. Though its precepts are no doubt based upon the actual
practice of the Italian politicians of that day, it has been suggested
by some writers that the work was a covert exposure of the deform-
ity of the shocking maxims that it professes to inculcate. The
question of his motives has been mucli discussed, and is still con-
sidered open. Tlie word " Machiavellism " has, however, been
adopted to denote all that is defonned, insincere, and perfidious in
politics. He died in great poverty, in the year 1527.

2 Vide Disc, Sop. Liv. u. 2.

108 ESSAYS.

prisoner. Neither give thou ^sop's cock a gem,
who would be better pleased and happier if he had
had a barley-corn. The example of God teacheth
the lesson truly : " He sendeth his rain, and maketh
his sun to shine upon the just and the unjust ; " *
but he doth not rain wealth, nor shine honor and
virtues upon men equally ; common benefits are to
be communicate with all, but peculiar benefits with
choice. And beware how, in making the portraiture,
thou breakest the pattern ; for divinity maketh the
love of ourselves the pattern, the love of our neigh-
bors but the portraiture : " Sell all thou hast, and
give it to the poor, and follow me ; " ^ but sell not all
thou hast, except thou come and follow me ; that is,
except thou have a vocation wherein thou mayest do
as much good with little means as with great ; for
otherwise, in feeding the streams thou driest the
fountain. Neither is there only a habit of goodness
directed by right reason, but there is in some men,
even in nature, a disposition towards it ; as, on the
other side, there is a natural malignity, for there
be that in their nature do not affect the good of

^ St. Matthew v, 45. "For he maketh his sun rise on the
evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the
unjust."

2 This is a portion of our Saviour's reply to the rich man who
asked him what lie should do to inherit eternal life : " Then Jesus
beholding him, loved him, and said unto him. One tiling thou
lackest : go thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the
poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven ; and come, take up
the cross, and follow me." — St. Mark x. 21.

OF GOODNESS, ETC. 109

others. The lighter sort of malignity turneth but
to a crossness, or frowardness, or aptness to oppose,
or difficileness, or the like ; but the deeper sort to
envy, and mere mischief. Such men in other men's
calamities are, as it were, in season, and are ever
on the loading part ; not so good as the dogs that
licked Lazarus's sores,^ but like flies that are still
buzzing upon any thing that is raw ; misanthropi,
that make it their practice to bring men to the
bough, and yet have never a tree for the purpose
in their gardens, as Timon ^ had. Such dispositions
are the very errors of human nature, and yet they
are the fittest timber to make great politics of ; like
to knee timber,^ that is good for ships that are
ordained to be tossed, but not for building houses
that shall stand firm. The parts and signs of good-
ness are many. If a man be gracious and courteous
to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world,

1 See St. Luke xvi. 21.

* Timon of Athens, as he is generally called (being so styled by
Shakspeare in the play which he has founded on his story), was
surnamed the "Misanthrope," from the hatred which he bore to
his fellow-men. He was attached to Apemantus, another Athenian
of similar character to himself, and he professed to esteem Alci-
biades, because he foresaw that he would one day bring ruin on
his country. Going to the public assemblj' on one occasion, he
mounted the rostrum, and stated that he had a fig-tree, on which
many worthy citizens had ended their days by the halter ; that he
was going to cut it down for the purpose of building on the spot,
and therefore recommended all such as were inclined, to avail
themselves of it before it was too late.

* A piece of timber that has grown crooked, and has been so
cut that the trunk and branch form an angle.

110 ESSAYS.

and that his heart is no island cut off from other
lands, but a continent that joins to them ; if he be
compassionate towards the afflictions of others, it
shows that his heart is like the noble tree that is
wounded itself when it gives the balm ; ^ if he easily
pardons and remits offences, it shows that his mind
is planted above injuries, so that he cannot be shot ;
if he be thankful for small benefits, it shows that he
weighs men's minds, and not their trash ; but, above
all, if he have St. Paul's perfection, that he would
wish to be an anathema^ from Christ for the salva^
tion of his brethren, it shows much of a divine nature,
and a kind of conformity with Christ himself.

XIV. — OF NOBILITY.

We will speak of nobility, first, as a portion of an
estate, then as a condition of particular persons. A
monarchy, where there is no nobility at all, is ever
a pure and absolute tyranny as that of the Turks;
for nobility attempers sovereignty, and draws the

^ He probably here refers to the myi-th-tree. Incision is the
method usually adopted for extracting the resinous juices of trees ;
as in the India-rubber and gutta-percha trees.

2 "A votive," and, in the present instance, a "vicarious offer-
ing." He alludes to the words of St. Paul in his Second Ejiistle
to Timothy ii. 10: "Therefore I endure all things for the elect's
sake, that they may also obtain the salvation which is in Christ
Jesus with eternal glory."

OF NOBILITY. Ill

eyes of the people somewhat aside from the line
royal : but for democracies they need it not ; and
they are commonly more quiet and less subject to
sedition than where there are stirps of nobles ; for
men's eyes are upon the business, and not upon the
persons ; or if upon the persons, it is for the business
sake, as fittest, and not for flags and pedigree. We
see the Switzers last well, notwithstanding their
diversity of religion and of cantons ; for utility is
their bond, and not respects.^ The United Provinces
of the Low Countries ^ in their government excel ;
for where there is an equality the consultations are
more indifferent, and the payments and tributes more
cheerful. A great and potent nobility addeth ma-
jesty to a monarch, but diminisheth power, and put-
teth life and spirit into the people, but presseth their
fortune. It is well when nobles are not too great
for sovereignty nor for justice; and yet maintained
in that height, as the insolency of inferiors may be
broken upon them, before it come on too fast upon
the majesty of kings. A numerous nobility causeth
poverty and inconvenience in a state, for it is a sur-
charge of expense ; and besides, it being of necessity
that many of the nobility fall in time to be weak in
fortune, it maketh a kind of disproportion between
honor and means.

' Consideration of, or predilection for, particular persons.

S The Low Countries had then recently emancipated themselves
from the galling yoke of Spain. They were called the Seven United
Provinces of the Netherlands.

(

112 ESSAYS.

As for nobility in particular persons, it is a rever-
end thing to see an ancient castle or building not
in decay, or to see a fair timber-tree sound and
perfect ; how much more to behold an ancient noble
family, which hath stood against the waves and
weathers of time ! For new nobility is but the act of
power, but ancient nobility is the act of time. Those
that are first raised to nobility are commonly more
virtuous,^ but less innocent than their descendants ;
for there is rarely any rising but by a commixture
of good and evil arts; but it is reason the memory
of their virtues remain to their posterity, and their
faults die with themselves. Nobility of birth com-
monly abateth industry, and he that is not indus-
trious, envieth him that is; besides, noble persons
cannot go much higher ; and he that standeth at a
stay when others rise, can hardly avoid motions of
envy. On the other side, nobility extinguisheth the
passive envy from others towards them, because they
are in possession of honor. Certainly, kings that
have able men of their nobility shall find ease in
employing them, and a better slide into their busi-

f ness ; for people naturally bend to them, as born

Vin some sort to command.

1 This passage may at first sight appear somewhat contradic-
tory ; but he means to say, that those who are first ennobled will
commonly be found more conspicuous for the proiuinence of their
qualities, both good and bad.

^ Consistent with reason and justice.

OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES. II3

XV. — OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES.

Shepherds of people had need know the cal-
endars of tempests in state, which are commonly
greatest when things grow to equality; as natural
tempests are greatest about the equinoctia/ and as
there are certain hollow blasts of wind and secret
swellings of seas before a tempest, so are there in
states : —

" Ille etiam csecos iustare tumultus
Saepe monet, fraudesque et operta tnmescere bella." 2

Libels and licentious discourses against the state,
when they are frequent and open ; and in like sort
false news, often running up and down, to the disad-
vantage of the state, and hastily embraced, are
amongst the signs of troubles. Virgil, giving the
pedigree of Fame, saith she was sister to the
giants : —

" lUam Terra parens, ira irritata Deorum,
Extremam (ut perhibent) Cceo Enceladoque sororem
Progenuit." *

As if fames were the relics of seditions past;
but they are no less indeed the preludes of sedi-
tions to come. Howsoever, he noteth it right, that

^ The periods of the Equinoxes.

2 "He often warns, too, that secret revolt is impending, that
treachery and open warfare are ready to burst forth." — Virg.
GeorQ. i. 465.

* " Mother Earth, exasperated at the wrath of the Deities, pro-
duced her, as they tell, a last birth, a sister to the giants Coeus,
and Enceladus." — Virg. JEn. iv. 179.

114 ESSAYS.

seditious tumults and seditious fames differ no more
but as brother and sister, masculine and feminine;
especially if it come to that, that the best actions of
a state, and the most plausible, and which ought to
give greatest contentment, are taken in ill sense,
and traduced; for that shows the envy great, as
Tacitus saith, "Conflate magn^ invidiS, seu bene,
seu male, gesta premunt." ^ Neither doth it follow,
that because these fames are a sign of troubles, that
the suppressing of them with too much severity
should be a remedy of troubles; for the despising
of them many times cliccks them best, and the
going about to stop them doth but make a wonder
long-lived. Also that kind of obedience, which Taci-
tus speaketh of, is to be held suspected : " Eraiit
in officio, sed tamen qui mallent imperantium man-
data interpretari, quam exsequi ; " ^ disputing, ex-
cusing, cavilling upon mandates and directions, is
a kind of shaking off the yoke, and assay of dis-
obedience ; especially if, in those disputings, they
which are for the direction speak fearfully and ten-
derly, and those that are against it audaciously.

1 " Great public odium once excited, his deeds, whether good
or whether bad, cause his downfall." Bacon has here quoted
incorrectly, probably from memory. The words of Tacitus are
(Hist. B. i. C. 7),: " Inviso semel principe, seu bene, seu male,
facta premunt," — " The ruler once detested, his actions, whether
good or whether bad, cause his downfall."

2 ♦' They attended to their duties ; but still, as prefeiring rather
to discuss the commands of their rulers, than to obey them." — ■
Tac. Hist. ii. 39.

OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES. 115

Also, as Machiavel noteth well, when princes,
that ought to be common parents, make themselves
as a party, and lean to a side ; it is as a boat that
is overthrown by uneven weight on the one side,
as was well seen in the time of Henry the Third of
France ; for first himself entered league ^ for the
extirpation of the Protestants, ai\d presently after
the same league was turned upon himself; for when
the authority of princes is made but an accessary to
a cause, and that there be other bands that tie faster
than the band of sovereignty, kings begin to be put
almost out of possession.

Also, when discords, and quarrels, and factions
are carried openly and audaciously, it is a sign the
reverence of government is lost ; for the motions of
the greatest persons in a government ought to be as
tlie motions of the planets under " primum mobile," ^
according to the old opinion, which is, that every of
them is carried swiftly by the highest motion, and
softly in their own motion ; and therefore, when
great ones in their own particular motion move
violently, and as Tacitus expresseth it well, " liberius

• He alludes to the bad policy of Henry the Third of France,
who espoused the part of "The League," which was formed by
the Duke of Guise and other Catholics for the extirpation of the
Protestant faith. When too late he discovered his error, and
finding his own authority entirely superseded, he caused the
Duke of Guise and the Cardinal De Lorraine, his brother, to
be assassinated.

^ " The primary motive power." He alludes to an imaginary
centre of gravitation, or central body, which was supposed to set
all the other heavenly bodies in motion.

116 ESSAYS.

quam ut irnperantium meminissent," ^ it is a sign the
orbs are out of frame ; for reverence is that where-
with princes are girt from God, who threateneth tlie
dissolving thereof: " Solvam cingula regum." ^

So when any of the four pillars of government
are mainly shaken or weakened (which are religion,
justice, counsel, and treasure), men had need to pray
for fair weather. But let us pass from this part
of predictions (concerning which, nevertheless, more
light may be taken from that which followeth), and
let us speak fii-st of the materials of seditions ; then
of the motives of them ; and thirdly of the remedies.

Concerning the materials of seditions, it is a thing
well to be considered, for the surest way to prevent
seditions (if the times do bear it), is to take away
the matter of them ; for if there be fuel prepared,
it is hard to tell whence the spark shall come that
shall set it on fire. The matter of seditions is of
two kinds, much poverty and much discontentment.
It is certain, so many overthrown estates, so many
votes for troubles. Lucan noteth well the state of
Rome before the civil war : —

" Hinc usura vorax, rapidumque in tempore foenus,
Hinc concussa fides, et multis utile bellum." *

1 " Too freely to remember their own rulers."

2 " I will unloose the girdles of kings." He probably alludes
here to the first verse of the 45th chapter of Isaiah : " Thus saitb
the Lord to his anointed, to Cyrus, whose right hand I have holdeu,
to subdue nations before him ; and I will loose the loins of kings,
t» open before }iim the two-leaved gates."

• *' Hence devouring v^ury, and interest accumulating in lapse

OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES. 117

This same " multis utile bellum," ^ is an assured
and infallible sign of a state disposed to seditions
and troubles ; and if this poverty and broken estate
in the better sort be joined with a want and neces-
sity in the mean people, the danger is imminent
and great; for the rebellions of the belly are the
worst. As for discontentments, they are in the
politic body like to humors in the natural, which
are apt to gather a preternatural heat and to in-
flame ; and let no prince measure the danger of
them by this, whether they be just or unjust ; for
that were to imagine people to be too reasonable,
who do often spurn at their own good ; nor yet by
this, whether the griefs whereupon they rise be in
fact great or small ; for they are the most danger-
ous discontentments where the fear is greater than
the feeling : " Dolendi modus, timendi non item." ^
Besides, in great oppressions, the same things that
provoke the patience, do withal mate ^ the courage ;
but in fears it is not so ; neither let any prince or
state be secure concerning discontentments, because
they have been often or have been long, and yet
no peril hath ensued; for as it is true that every
vapor or fiime doth not turn into a storm, so it is
nevertheless true that storms, though they blow

of time ; hence shaken credit, and warfare, profitable to the many.'
— LvAuin. Phars. 1. 181.

1 " Warfare profitable to the manj'."

2 " To grief there is a limit, not so to fear."
8 "Check," or "daunt."

118 ESSAYS.

over divers times, yet may fall at last ; and, as the
Spanish proverb noteth well, " The cord breaketh
at the last by the weakest pull."^

The causes and motives of seditions are, innova-
tion in religion, taxes, alteration of laws and cus-
toms, breaking of privileges, general oppression, ad-
vancement of unworthy persons, strangers, dearths,
disbanded soldiers, factions grown desperate, and
whatsoever in offending people joineth and knitteth
them in a common cause.

For the remedies, there may be some general
preservatives, whereof we will speak ; as for the
just cure, it must answer to the particular disease,
and so be left to counsel rather than rule.

The first remedy, or prevention, is to remove, by
all means possible, that material cause of sedition
whereof we spake, which is, want and poverty in
the estate ; ^ to which purpose serveth the opening
and well-balancing of trade ; the cherishing of manu-
factures ; the banishing of idleness ; the repressing
of waste and excess by sumptuary laws ; ^ the im-
provement and husbanding of the soil ; the regu-
lating of prices of things vendible; the moderating
of taxes and tributes, and the like. Generally, it is

1 This is similar to the proverb now in common use : " 'T is the
last feather that breaks the back of the camel."

2 The state.

8 Though .sumptuary laws are probably just in theory, they have
been found impracticable in any other than iufant states. Their
principle, however, is certainly recognized in such countries as
by statutory enactment discountenance gaming. Those who are

OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES. 119

to be foreseen that the population of a kingdom
(especially if it be not mown down by wars) do not
exceed the stock of the kingdom which should main-
tain them ; neither is the population to be reck-
oned only by number ; for a smaller number, that
spend more and earn less, do wear out an estate
sooner than a greater number that live lower and
gather more. Therefore the multiplying of nobility
and other degrees of quality, in an over-proportion
to the common people, doth speedily bring a state
to necessity ; and so doth likewise an overgrown
clergy, for they bring nothing to the stock ; ^ and
in like manner, when more are bred scholars than
preferments can take off.

It is likewise to be remembered, that, forasmuch
as the increase of any estate must be upon the for-
eigner ^ (for whatsoever is somewhere gotten is some-
where lost), there be but three things which one
nation selleth unto another; the commodity, as
nature yieldeth it ; the manufacture ; and the vec-
ture, oi carriage ; so that, if these three wheels go,
wealth will flow as in a spring tide. And it cometh
many times to pass, that, " materiam superabit

opposed to such laws upon principle, would do well to look into
Bernard Mandeville's " Fable of the Bees," or " Private Vices
Public Benefits. " The Romans had numerous siimptuary laws,
and in the Middle Ages there were many enactments in this
country against excess of expenditure upon wearing apparel and
the pleasures of the table.

^ He means that they do not add to the capital of the country.

* At the expense of foreign countries.

120 ESSAYS.

opus," ^ that the work and carriage is more worth
than the material, and enricheth a state more ; as
is notably seen in the Low Countrymen, who have
the best mines ^ above ground in the world.

Above all things, good policy is to be used, that
the treasure and moneys in a state be not gathered
into few hands ; for, otherwise, a state may have a
great stock, and yet starve. And money is like
muck,^ not good except it be spread. This is done
chiefly by suppressing, or, at the least, keeping a
strait hand upon the devouring trades of usury, en-
grossing ^ great pasturages, and the like.

For removing discontentments, or, at least, the
danger of them, there is in every state (as we
know) two portions of subjects, the nobles and the
commonalty. When one of these is discontent, tlie
danger is not great ; for common people are of slow
motion, if they be not excited by the greater sort ;
and the greater sort are of small strength, except
the multitude be apt and ready to move of them-
selves ; then is the danger, when the greater sort

1 "The workmanship will surpass the material." — Ovid, Met.
B. ii. 1. 5.

'■' He alludes to the manufactures of the Low Countries.

8 Like manure.

* Sometimes printed engrossing, great pasturages. By engross-
ing, is meant the trade of engrossers — men who buy up all that
can be got of a particular commodity, then raise the price. By
great pasturages is meant turning com land into pasture. Of
this practice great complaints had 1>een made for near a century
before Bacon's time, and a law ]iassed to prevent it. — See Lord
Herbert of Cherbury's History of Henry VIII.

OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES. 121

do but wait for the troubling of the waters amongst
the meaner, that then they may declare themselves.
The poets feign that the rest of the gods would
have bound Jupiter, which he hearing of, by the
counsel of Pallas, sent for Briareus, with his hun-
dred hands, to come in to his aid ; an emblem, no
doubt, to show how safe it is for monarchs to make
sure of the good-will of common people.

To give moderate liberty for griefs and discon-
tentments to evaporate (so it be without too great
insolency or bravery), is a safe way ; for he that
tumeth the humors back, and maketh the wound
bleed inwards, endangereth malign ulcers and per-
nicious imposthumations.

The part of Epimetheus ^ might well become
Prometheus, in the case of discontentments, for
there is not a better provision against them. Epi-
metheus, when griefs and evils flew abroad, at last
shut the lid, and kept Hope in the bottom of the
vessel. Certainly, the politic and artificial nourish-

1 The myth of Pandora's box, which is here referred to, is
related in the Works and Days of Hesiod. Epimetheus was
the personification of " Afterthought," while his brother Prome-
theus represented "Forethought," or prudence. It was not
Epimetheus that opened the box, but Pandora — "All-gift,"
whom, contrary to the advice of his brother, he had received at
the hands of Mercury, and had made his wife. In their house
stood a closed jar, which they were forbidden to open. Till her
arrival, this had been kept untouched ; but her curiosity prompt-
ing her to open the lid, all the evils hitlierto unknown to man
flew out and spread over the earth, and she only shut it down
in time to prevent the escape of Hope.

122 ESSAYS.

ing and entertaining of hopes, and carrying men from
hopes to hopes, is one of the best antidotes against
the poison of discontentments; and it is a certain
sign of a wise government and proceeding, when it
can hold men's hearts by hopes, when it cannot by
satisfaction ; and when it can handle things in such
manner as no evil shall appear so peremptory, but
that it hath some outlet of hope ; which is the less
hard to do, because both particular persona and fac-
tions are apt enough to flatter themselves, or at
least to brave that which they believe not.

Also the foresight and prevention, that there be
no likely or fit head whereunto discontented persons
may resort, and under whom they may join, is a
known but an excellent point of caution. I under-
stand a fit head to be one that hath greatness and
reputation, that hath confidence with the discon-
tented party, and upon whom they turn their eyes,
and that is thought discontented in his own par-
ticular : which kind of persons are either to be won
and reconciled to the state, and that in a fast and
true manner ; or to be fronted with some other of
the same party that may oppose them, and so di-
vide the reputation. Generally, the dividing and
breaking of all factions and combinations that are
adverse to the state, and setting them at distance,
or, at least, distrust amongst themselves, is not one
of the worst remedies ; for it is a desperate case, if
those that hold with the proceeding of the state be
full of discord and faction, and those that are against
it be entire and united.

OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES. 123

I have noted, that some witty and sharp speeches,
which have fallen from princes, have given fire to
seditions. Caesar did himself infinite hurt in that
speech — " Sylla nescivit literas, non potuit die-
tare , " ^ for it did utterly cut off that hope which
men had entertained, that he would, at one time or
other, give over his dictatorship. Galba undid himself
by that speech, " Legi a se militem, non emi ; " ^ for it
put the soldiers out of hope of the donative. Probus,
likewise, by that speech, " Si vixero, non opus erit
amplius Romano imperio militibus ; " ^ a speech of
great despair for the soldiers, and many the like.
Surely princes had need, in tender matters and
ticklish times, to beware what they say, especially
in these short speeches, which fly abroad like darts,
and are thought to be shot out of their secret in-
tentions ; for as for large discourses, they are flat
things, and not so much noted.

1 "Sylla did not know his letters, and so he could not dictate."
This saying is attributed by Suetonius to Julius Caesar. It is a
play on the Latin verb dictare, which means either "to dictate,"
or "to act the part of Dictator," according to the context. As
this saying was presumed to be a reflection on Sylla's ignorance,
and to imply that by reason thereof he was unable to maintain
his power, it was concluded by the Roman people that Caesar,
who was an elegant scholar, feeling himself subject to no such
inability, did not intend speedily to yield the reins of power. —
Sxiet. Fit. C. Jul. Cces. 77, i. and Cf. A. L. i. vii. 12.

2 "That soldiers were levied by him, not bought." — Tac. Hist.
i. 5.

^ " If I live, there shall no longer be need of soldiers in the
Roman empire." — Flav. Fop. Fit. Prob. 20.

124 ESSAYS.

Lastly, let princes, against all events, not be
without some great person, one or rather more, of
military valor, near unto them, for the repressing of
seditions in their beginnings ; for without that, there
useth to be more trepidation in court upon the first
breaking out of troubles than were fit, and the state
runneth the danger of that which Tacitus saith :
"Atque is habitus animorum fuit, ut pessimum
facinus auderent pauci, plures vellent, omnes pater-
entur : " ^ but let such military persons be assured,
and well reputed of, rather than factious and popu-
lar ; holding also good correspondence with the other
great men in the state, or else the remedy is worse
than the disease.

VXVI. — OF ATHEISM.

I HAD rather believe all the fables in the legends,^
and the Talmud,^ and the Alcoran, than that this
universal frame is without a mind; and, therefore,
God never wrought miracle to convince atheism,

1 " And such was the state of feeling, that a few dared to per-
petrate the worst of crimes ; more wished to do so ; all submitted
to it." — Hist, i, 28.

^ He probably alludes to the legends or miraculous stories of
the saints ; such as walking with their heads off, preaching to the
fishes, sailing over the sea on a cloak, &c. &c.

' This is a book that contains the Jewish traditions, and the
rabbinical explanations of the law. It is replete with wonderful
narratives.

OF ATHEISM. 125

because his ordinary works convince it. It is tnie,\
that a little philosophy^ inclineth^ man's mind to
atheism, but depth in philosophy bringeth men's
minds about to religion ; for while the mind of man
looketh upon second causes scattered, it may some-
times rest in them, and go no further ; but when it
beholdeth the chain of them confederate, and linked
together, it must needs fly to Providence and Deity. '
Nay, even that school which is most accused of
atheism, doth most demonstrate religion: that is,
the school of Leucippus,^ and Democritus,^ and
Epicurus; for it is a thousand times more credible
that four mutable elements, and one immutable fifth
essence,^ duly and eternally placed, need no God,
than that an army of infinite small portions, or seeds
unplaced, should have produced this order and
beauty without a divine marshal. The Scripture
saith, "The fool hath said in his heart, there is no

1 This passage not improbably contains the germ of Pope's
famous lines : —

"A little learning is a dangerous thing ;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring."

2 A pliilosopher of Abdera ; the fii-st who taught the system of
atoms, which was afterwards more fully developed by Democritus
and Epicurus.

' He was a disciple of the last-named philosopher, and held
the same principles ; he also denied the existence of the soul
after death. He is considered to have been the parent of experi-
mental philosophy, and was the first to teach, what is now con-
firmed by science, that the Milky Way is an accumulation of
stars.

♦ Spirit.

126 ESSAYS.

God ; " ^ it is not said, " The fool hath thought in his
heart ; " so as he rather saith it by rote to himself,
as that he would have, than that he can thoroughly
believe it, or be persuaded of it ; for none deny there
is a God, but those for whom it maketh ^ that there
were no God. It appeareth in nothing more, that
atheism is rather in the lip than in the heart of man,
than by^his, that atheists will ever be talking of that
their opinion, as if they fainted in it within them-
selves, and would be glad to be strengthened by the
consent of others ; nay more, you shall have atheists
strive to get disciples, as it fareth with other sects ;
and, which is most of all, you shall have of them
that will suffer for atheism, and not recant ; whereas,
if they did truly think that there were no such thing
as God, why should they trouble themselves ? Epi-
curus is charged, that he did but dissemble for his
credit's sake, when he aflfirmed there were blessed
natures, but such as enjoyed themselves without
having respect to the government of the world.
Wherein they say he did temporize, though in secret
he thought there was no God; but certainly he is
traduced, for his words are noble and divine : " Non
Deos vulgi negare profanum ; sed vulgi opiniones
Diis applicare profanum."^ Plato could have said

^ Psalm xiv. 1, and liii. 1.

2 To whose (seeming) advantage it is ; the wish being father
to the thought.

* "It is not profane to deny the existence of the deities of the
vulgar ; but, to apply to the divinities the received notions of the
vulgar, is profane." — Diog. Laert. x. 123.

OF ATHEISM. 127

no more; and, although he had the confidence to
deny the administration, he had not the power to
deny the nature. The Indians^ of the west have
names for their particular gods, though they have
no name for God; as if the heathens should have
had the names Jupiter, Apollo, Mars, &c., but not
the word Deus, which shows that even those bar-
barous people have the notion, though they have
not the latitude and extent of it ; bo that against
atheists the very savages take part with the very
subtlest philosophei's. The contemplative atheist is
rare ; a Diagoras,^ a Bion,^ a Lucian,* perhaps, and
some others, and yet they seem to be more than they
are; for that all that impugn a received religion,
or superstition, are, by the adverse part, branded
with the name of atheists. But the great atheists
indeed are hypocrites, which are ever handling holy
things, but without feeling, so as they must needs be

1 He alludes to the native tribes of the continent of America and
the West Indies.

2 He was an Athenian philosopher, who, from the greatest
superstition, became an avowed atheist. He was proscribed by
the Areiopagus for speaking against the gods with ridicule and
contempt, and is supposed to have died at Corinth.

* A Greek philosopher, a disciple of Theodoras the atheist, to
whose opinions he adhered. His life was said to have been profli-
gate, and his death superstitious.

* Lucian ridiculed the follies and pretensions of Bome of the
ancient philosophers ; but though the freedom of his style was
such as to cause him to be censured for impiety, he hardly de-
serves the stigma of atheism here cast upon him by the learned
author.

128 ESSAYS.

cauterized in the end. The causes of atheism are:
di\'ision8 in religion, if they be many ; for any one
main division addeth zeal to both sides, but many
divisions introduce atheism. Another is, scandal of
priests, when it is come to that which St. Bernard
saith: "Non est jam dicere, ut populus, sic sacerdos;
quia nee sic populus, ut sacerdos." ^ A third is,
custom of profane scoffing in holy matters, which
doth by little and little deface the reverence of
religion : and lastly, learned times, specially with
peace and prosperity ; for troubles and adversities
do more bow men's minds to religion. They that
deny a God destroy a man's nobility, for certainly
man is of kin to the beasts by his body ; and if he
be not of kin to God by his spirit, he is a base and
ignoble creature. It destroys likewise magnanimity,
and the raising of human nature; for, take an ex-
ample of a dog, and mark what a generosity and
courage he will put on when he finds himself main-
tained by a man, who, to him, is instead of a God,
or " melior natura ; " ^ which courage is manifestly
such as that creature, without that confidence of a
better nature than his own, could never attain. So

* " It is not for us now to say, ' Like priest like people,' for
the people are not even so bad as the priest. " St. Bernard, abbot
of Clairvaux, preached the second Crusade against the Saracens,
and was unsparing in his censures of the sins then prevalent
among the Christian jiriesthood. His writings are voluminous,
and by some he has been considered as the latest of the fathers
of the Church.

2 "A .superior nature."

OF ATHEISM. 129

man, when he resteth and assureth himself upon
divine protection and favor, gathereth a force and
faith, which human nature in itself could not obtain ;
therefore, as atheism is in all respects hateful, so in
this, that it depriveth human nature of the means
to exalt itself above human frailty. As it is in par-
ticular persons, so it is in nations : never was there
such a state for magnanimity as Rome. Of this
state hear what Cicero saith : " Quam volumus, licet,
Patres conscripti, nos amemus, tamen nee numero
Hispanos, nee robore Gallos, nee calliditate Pcenos,
nee artibus Graecos, nee denique hoc ipso hujus
gentis et terras domestic© nativoque sensu Italos
ipsos et Latinos ; sed pietate, ac religione, atque
h^c un^ sapientia, quod Deorum immortalium nu-
mine omnia regi, gubernarique perspeximus, omnes
geiites, nationesque superavimus." ^

^ " We Diay admire ourselves, conscript fathers, as much as
we please ; still, neither by numbers did we vanquish the Span-
iards, nor by bodily strength the Gauls, nor by cunning the Car-
thaginians, nor through the arts the Greeks, nor, in fine, by the
inborn and native good sense of this our nation, and this our
race and soil, the Italians and Latins themselves ; but through
our devotion and our religious feeling, and this, the sole true
wisdom, the liaving perceived that all things are regulated and
governed by the providence of the immortal Gods, have we subdued
all races and nations." — Cic. de. Harus. Respon. 9.

130 ESSAYS.

XVIL — OF SUPERSTITION.

It were better to have no opinion of God at all,
than such an opinion as is unworthy of him; for
the one is unbelief, the other is contumely,^ and cer-
tainly superstition is the reproach of the Deity.
Plutarch saith well to that purpose : " Surely," saith
he, " I had rather a great deal men should say there
was no such man at all as Plutarch, than that they
should say that there was one Plutarch that would
eat his children^ as soon as they were born,' as
the poets speak of Saturn ; and, as the contumely
is greater towards God, so the danger is greater
towards men. Atheism leaves a man to sense, to
philosophy, to natural piety, to laws, to reputation,
all which may be guides to an outward moral virtue,
though religion were not ; but superstition dismounts
ail these, and erecteth an absolute monarchy in the
minds of men. Therefore atheism did never perturb
states ; for it makes men wary of themselves, as
looking no further, and we see the times inclined
to atheism (as the time of Augustus Osesar) were
civil times ; but superstition hath been the confusion

* The justice of this position is, perhaps, somewhat doubtful.
The superstitious man must have some scruples, while he who
believes not iu a God (if there i» such a person), iieeds have none.

* Time was personified in Saturn, and by this story was meant
its tendency to destroy whatever it has brought into exixt-ence. —
Pltd. de HuperstU. x.

OF SUPERSTITION. 131

of many states, and bringeth in a new primum mo-
bile,^ that ravisheth all the spheres of goverament.
The master of superstition is the people, and in all
superstition wise men follow fools ; and arguments
are fitted to practice in a reversed order. It was
gravely said by some of the prelates in the Council
of Trent,'^ where the doctrine of the schoolmen
bare great sway, that the schoolmen were like as-
tronomers, which did faign eccentrics ^ and epicyles,*
and such engines of orbs to save^ the phenomena,
though they knew there were no such things; and,
in like manner, that the schoolmen had framed a
number of subtle and intricate axioms and theorems,
to save the practice of the Church. The causes of
superstition are, pleasing and sensual rites and cer-
emonies ; excess of outward and pharisaical holiness ;
over-great reverence of traditions, which cannot but
load the Church ; the stratagems of prelates for
their own ambition and lucre ; the favoring too much
of good intentions, which openeth the gate to con-
ceits and novelties; the taking an aim at divine
matters by human, which cannot but breed mixture

1 The primary motive power.

' This Council commenced in 1545, and lasted eighteen years.
It was convened for the purpose of opposing the rising spirit of
Protestantism, and of discussing and settling the disputed points
of the Catholic faith.

* Irregular or anomalous movements.

* An epic3'cle is a smaller circle, whose centre is in the circum-
ference of a greater one.

•> To account for.

132 ESSAYS.

of imaginations ; and, lastly, barbarous times, espe-
cially joined with calamities and disasters. Supersti-
tion, without a veil, is a deformed thing ; for, as it
addeth deformity to an ape to be so like a man,
so the similitude of superstition to religion makes
it the more deformed ; and as wholesome meat cor-
rupteth to little worms, so good forms and orders
corrupt into a number of petty observances. There
is a superstition in avoiding superstition, when men
think to do best if they go furthest from the super-
stition formerly received; therefore care would be
had that (as it fareth in ill purgings) the good be not
taken away with the bad, which commonly is done
when the people is the reformer.

XVIII. — OF TRAVEL.

Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of educa-
tion; in the elder, a part of experience. He that
travelleth into a country before he hath some en-
trance into the language, goeth to school, and not to
travel. That young men travel under some tutor
or grave servant, I allow well, so that he be such a
one that hath the language, and hath been in the
country before ; whereby he may be able to tell
them what things are worthy to be seen in the
country where they go, what acquaintances they
are to seek, what exercises or discipline the place

OF TRAVEL. 133

yieldeth; for else young men shall go hooded, and
look abroad little. It is a strange thing that, in
sea voyages, where there is nothing to be seen but
sky and sea, men should make diaries ; but in land
travel, wherein so much is to be observed, for the
most part they omit it, as if chance were fitter to
be registered than observation. Let diaries, there-
fore, be brought in use. The things to be seen and
observed are, the courts of princes, especially when
they give audience to ambassadors ; the courts of
justice, while they sit and hear causes; and so of
consistories^ ecclesiastic; the churches and monas-
teries, with the monuments which are therein ex-
tant ; the walls and fortifications of cities and towns ;
and so the havens and harbors, antiquities and ruins,
libraries, colleges, disputations, and lectures, where
any are ; shipping and navies ; houses and gardens
of state and pleasure, near great cities; armories,
arsenals, magazines, exchanges, burses, warehouses,
exercises of horsemanship, fencing, training of sol-
diers, and the like ; comedies, such whereunto the
better sort of persons do resort ; treasuries of jewels
and robes; cabinets and rarities; and, to conclude,
whatsoever is memorable in the places where they
go, after all which the tutors or servants ought to
make diligent inquiry. As for triumphs, masks,
feasts, weddings, funerals, capital executions, and
such shows, men need not to be put in mind of
them; yet they are not to be neglected. If you

1 Synods, or councils.

134 ESSAYS.

will have a young man to put his travel into a little
room, and in short time to gather much, this you
must do : first, as was said, he must have some
entrance into the language before he goeth; then
he must have such a servant, or tutor, as knoweth
the country, as was likewise said; let him carry
with him also some card or book, describing the
country where he travelleth, which will be a good
key to his inquiry ; let him keep also a diary ; let
him not stay long in one city or town, more or less,
as the place deserveth, but not long ; nay, when he
stayeth in one city or town, let him change his lodg-
ing from one end and part of the town to another,
which is a great adamant of acquaintance ; let him
sequester himself from the company of his country-
men, and diet in such places where there is good
company of the nation where he travelleth ; let him,
upon his removes from one place to another, pro-
cure recommendation to some person of quality
residing in the place whither he removeth, that he
may use his favor in those things he desireth to see
or know : thus he may abridge his travel with much
profit. As for the acquaintance which is to be
sought in travel, that which is most of all profitable,
is acquaintance with the secretaries and employed
men^ of ambassadors, for so in travelling in one
country he shall suck the experience of many ; let
him also see and visit eminent persons in all kinds
which are of great name abroad, that he may be

1 At the present day called aUach6s,

OF EMPIRE. 135

able to tell how the life agreeth with the fame.
For quarrels, they are with care and discretion
to be avoided; they are commonly for mistresses,
healths,' place, and words; and let a man beware
how he keepeth company with choleric and quarrel-
some persons, for they will engage him into their
own quarrels. When a traveller returneth home,
let him not leave the countries where he hath trav-
elled altogether behind him, but maintain a cor-
respondence by letters with those of his acquaintance
which are of most worth ; and let his travel appear
rather in his discourse than in his apparel or gesture,
and in his discourse let him be rather advised in his
answers, than forward to tell stories; and let it
appear that he doth not change his country manners
for those of foreign parts, but only prick in some
flowers of that he hath learned abroad into the
customs of his own country.

XIX. — OF EMPIRE.

It is a miserable state of mind to have few things
to desire, and many things to fear ; and yet that
commonly is the case of kings, who, being, at the
highest, want matter of desire,^ which makes their

^ He probably means the refusing to join on the occasion of
drinking healths when taking wine.
2 Something to create excitement.

136 ESSAYS.

minds more languishing ; and have many repre-
sentations of perils and shadows, which makes their
minds the less clear; and this is one reason, also,
of that effect which the Scripture speaketh of, " that
the king's heart is inscrutable ; " ^ for multitude of
jealousies, and lack of some predominant desire,
that should marshal and put in order all the rest,
maketh any man's heart hard to find or sound.
Hence it comes, likewise, that princes many times
make themselves desires, and set their hearts upon
toys : sometimes upon a building ; sometimes upon
erecting of an order ; sometimes upon the advancing
of a person ; sometimes upon obtaining excellency
in some art or feat of the hand, — as Nero for
playing on the harp ; Domitian for certainty of the
hand with the arrow; Commodus for playing at
fence ; ^ Caracalla for driving chariots, and the like.
This seemeth incredible unto those that know not
the principle, that the mind of man is more cheered
and refreshed by profiting in small things than by
standing at a stay^ in great. We see, also, that
kings that have been fortunate conquerors in their
first years, it being not possible for them to go
forward infinitely, but that they must have some
check or arrest in their fortunes, turn in their latter
years to be superstitious and melancholy; as did

* "The heart of kings is unsearchable." — Prov. v, 3.

2 Commodus fought naked in public as a gladiator, and prided
himself on his skill as a swordsman.

• Making a stop at, or dwelling too long upon.

OF E^IPIRE. 137

Alexander the Great, Diocletian,^ and, in our mem-
ory, Charles the rifth,^ and others ; for he that is
used to go forward, and findeth a stop, falleth out
of his own favor, and is not the thing he was.

To speak now of the true temper of empire, it is
a thing rare and hard to keep, for both temper and
distemper consist of contraries; but it is one thing
to mingle contraries, another to interchange them.
Tiie answer of Apollonius to Vespasian is full of
excellent instruction. Vespasian asked him, " What
was Nero's overthrow ? " He answered, " Nero
could touch and tune the harp well ; but in govern-
ment sometimes he used to wind the pins too high,
sometimes to let them down too low." ^ And cer-
tain it is, that nothing destroyeth authority so much
as the unequal and untimely interchange of power
pressed too far, and relaxed too much.

This is true, that the wisdom of all these latter
times in princes' affairs is rather fine deliveries, and
shiffcings of dangers and mischiefs, when they are
near, than solid and grounded courses to keep them
aloof; but this is but to try masteries with fortune,
and let men beware how they neglect and suffer
matter of trouble to be prepared. For no man can
forbid the spark, nor tell whence it may come.

^ After a prosperous reign of twenty-one years, Diocletian abdi-
cated the throne, and retired to a private station.

2 After having reigned thirty-five years, he abdicated the thrones
of Spain and German)', and passed the last two years of his life in
retirement at St. Just, a convent in Estremadura.

8 Philost. vit. A poll. Tyan. v. 28.

138 ESSAYS.

The difficulties in princes' business are many and
great; but the greatest difficulty is often in their
own mind. For it is common with princes (saith
Tacitus) to will contradictories : " Sunt plerumque
regum voluntates vehementes, et inter se contrarise ; " ^
for it is tlie solecism of power to think to command
the end, and yet not to endure the mean.

Kings have to deal with their neighbors, their
wives, their children, their prelates or clergy, their
nobles, their second nobles or gentlemen, their mer-
chants, their commons, and their men of war; and
from all these arise dangers, if care and circum-
spection be not used.

First, for their neighbors, there can no general
rule be given (the occasions are so variable), save
one which ever holdeth ; which is, that princes do
keep due sentinel, that none of their neighbors do
overgrow so (by increase of territory, by embracing
of trade, by approaches, or the like), as they be-
come more able to annoy them than they were ; and
this is generally the work of standing counsels to
foresee and to hinder it. During that triumvirate
of kings. King Henry the Eighth of England, Fran-
cis the First, King of France,* and Charles the
Fifth, Emperor, there was such a watch kept that

* "The desires of monarchs are generally impetuous and conflict-
ing among themselves." — Quoted rightly, A. L. ii. xxii. 5, from
Sallust (B. J. 113).

* He was especially the rival of the Emperor Charles the Fifth,
and was one of the most distinguished sovereigns that ever ruled
over France.

OF EMPIRE. 139

none of the three could win a pahn of ground, but
the other two would straightwajs balance it, either
by confederation, or, if need were, by a war; and
would not, in any wise, take up peace at interest;
and the like was done by that league (which Guic-
ciardini^ saith was the security of Italy) made
between Ferdinando, King of Naples, Lorenzius
Medicis, and Ludovicus Sforza, potentates, the one
of Florence, the other of Milan. Neither is the
opinion of some of the schoolmen to be received,
that a war cannot justly be made, but upon a prece-
dent injury or provocation ; for there is no question,
but a just fear of an imminent danger, though there
be no blow given, is a lawful cause of a war.

For their wives, there are cruel examples of them.
Livia is infaraed ^ for the poisoning of her husband ;
Roxolana, Solyman's wife,^ was the destruction of

^ An eminent historian of Florence. His great work, which
is here alluded to, is, " The Histoiy of Italy during his own
Time," which is considered one of the most valuable productions
of that age.

2 Spoken badly of. Livia was said to have hastened the death
of Augustus, to prepare the accession of her son Tiberius to the
throne,

* Solyman the Magnificent was one of the most celebrated of
the Ottoman monarchs. He took the Isle of Rhodes from the
Knights of St. John. He also subdued Moldavia, "Wallachia,
and the greatest part of Hungary, and took from the Persians
Georgia and Bagdad. He died A. D. 1566. His wife Roxolana
(who was originally a slave called Rosa or Hazathya), with th«
Pasha Rustan, conspired against the life of his son Mustapha, and
by their instigation this distinguished prince was strangled in his
father's presence.

140 ESSAYS.

that renowned prince, Sultan Mustapha, and other-
wise troubled his house and succession ; Edward the
Second of England's Queen ^ had the principal hand
in the deposing and murder of her husband.

This kind of danger is then to be feared chiefly
when the wives have plots for the raising of their
own children, or else that they be advoutresses.^

For their children, the tragedies likewise of dan-
gers from them have been many ; and generally the
entering of fathers into suspicion of their children
hath been ever unfortunate. The destruction of
Mustapha (that we named before) was so fatal to
Solyman's line, as the succession of the Turks from
Solyman until this day is suspected to be untrue,
and of strange blood ; for that Selymus the Second
was thought to be supposititious.^ The destruction
of Crispus, a young prince of rare towardness, by
Constantinus the Great, his father, was in like man-
ner fatal to his house ; for both Constantinus and
Constance, his sons, died violent deaths ; and Con-
stantius, his other son, did little better, who died
indeed of sickness, but after that Julianus had taken
arms against him. The destruction of Demetrius,*
son to Philip the Second of Macedon, turned upon

1 The infamous Isabella of Anjou.
^ Adulteresses.

* He, however, distinguished himself by taking Cyprus from
the Venetians in the year 1571.

* He was falsely accused by his brother Perseus of attempting to
dethrone his father, on which he was put to death by the order of
Philip, B. C. 180.

OF EMPIRE. 141

the father, who died of repentance. And many like
examples there are; but few or none where the
fathers had good by such distrust, except it were
where the sons were up in open arms against them ;
as was Selymus the First against Bajazet, and the
three sons of Henry the Second, King of England.

For their prelates, when they are proud and great,
there is also danger from them ; as it was in the
times of Anselmus ^ and Thomas Becket, Archbish-
ops of Canterbury, who, with their crosiers, did
almost try it with the king's sword ; and yet they
had to deal with stout and haughty kings ; William
Rufus, Henry the First, and Henry the Second.
The danger is not from that state, but where it hath
a dependence of foreign authority ; or where the
churchmen come in and are elected, not by the
collation of the King, or particular patrons, but by
the people.

For their nobles, to keep them at a distance it is
not amiss ; but to depress them may make a king
more absolute, but less safe, and less able to perform
anything that he desires. I have noted it in my
History of King Henry the Seventh of England,
who depressed his nobility, whereupon it came to
pass that his times were full of difficulties and

1 Anselm was Archbishop of Canterbury in the time of William
Rufus and Henry the First. Though his private life was pious
and exemplary, through his rigid assertion of the rights of the
clergy he was continually embroiled with his sovereign. Thomas
k Becket pursued a similar course, but with still greater violence.

142 ESSAYS.

troubles; for the nobility, though they continued
loyal unto him, yet did they not cooperate with
him in his business ; so that, in eflfect, he was fain
to do all things himself.

For their second nobles, there is not much danger
from them, being a body dispersed. They miiy
sometimes discourse high, but that doth little hurt ;
besides, they are a counterpoise to the higher nobil-
ity, that they grow not too potent ; and, lastly, being
the most immediate in authority with the common
people, they do best temper popular commotions.

For their merchants, they are " vena porta : " ^
and if they flourish not, a kingdom may have good
limbs, but will have empty veins, and nourish little.
Taxes and imposts upon them do seldom good to
the king's revenue, for that which he wins ^ in the
hundred ^ he losetli in the shire ; the particular rates
being increased, but the total bulk of trading rather
decreased.

For their commons, there is little danger from
them, except it be where they have great and potent
heads ; or where you meddle with the point of relig-
ion, or their customs, or means of life.

For their men of war, it is a dangerous state

1 The gi'eat vessel that conveys the blood to the liver, after it
has been enriched by the abaorption of nutriment from the intes-
tines.

* This is an expression similar to our proverb, "Penny- wise
and pound-foolish."

' A subdivision of the shire.

OF COUNSEL. 143

where they live and remain in a body, and are used
to donatives ; whereof we see examples in the Jani-
zaries ^ and Praetorian bands of Rome ; but train-
ings of men, and arming them in several places,
and under several commanders, and without dona-
tives, are things of defence and no danger.

Princes are like to heavenly bodies, which cause
good or evil times ; and which have much venera-
tion, but no rest. All precepts concerning kings
are in effect comprehended in those two remem-
brances, " Memento quod es homo ; " ^ and " Me-
mento quod es Deus," ^ or " vice Dei ; " * the one
bridleth their power and the other their will.

XX. — OF COUNSEL.

The greatest trust between man and man is the
trust of giving counsel ; for in other confidences
men commit the parts of life, their lands, their goods,
their children, their credit, some particular affair;
but to such as they make their counsellors they
commit the whole ; by how much the more they

1 The Janizaries were the body-guards of the Turkish sultans,
and enacted the same disgraceful part in making and unmaking
nionarchs, as the mercenary Praetorian guards of the Roman
Empire.

^ " Remember that thou art a man."

' " Remember that thou art a God."

* " The representative of God."

144 ESSAYS.

are obliged to all faith and integrity. The wisest
princes need not think it any diminution to their
greatness, or derogation to their sufficiency to rely
upon counsel. God himself is not without, but hath
made it one of the great names of his blessed Son,
" The Counsellor." ^ Solomon hath pronounced that,
" in counsel is stability." ^ Things will have their
first or second agitation : if they be not tossed upon
the arguments of counsel, they will be tossed upon
the waves of fortune, and be fall of inconstancy,
doing and undoing, like the reeling of a drunken
man. Solomon's son^ found the force of counsel,
as his father saw the necessity of it ; for the beloved
kingdom of God was first rent and broken by ill
counsel ; upon which counsel there are set for our
instruction the two marks whereby bad counsel is
forever best discerned, that it was young counsel for
the persons, and violent counsel for the matter.

The ancient times do set forth in figure both the
incorporation and inseparable conjunction of counsel
with kings, and the wise and politic use of counsel
by kings ; the one, in that they say Jupiter did
marry Metis, which signifieth counsel ; whereby they
intend that sovereignty is married to counsel ; the

1 Isaiah ix. 6 : " His name shall be called, Wonderful, Coun-
sellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of
Peace."

2 Prov. XX. 18: "Every purpose is established by counsel:
and with good advice make war."

8 The wicked Rehoboam, from whom the ten tribes of Israel
revolted, and elected Jeroboam their king. — See 1 Kings xii.

OF COUNSEL. 145

other in that which followeth, which was thus : they
say, after Jupiter was married to Metis, she con-
ceived by him and was with child; but Jupiter
suffered her not to stay till she brought forth, but
eat her up ; whereby he became himself with child,
and was delivered of Pallas armed, out of his head.^
Which monstrous fable containeth a secret of empire,
how kings are to make use of their council of state ;
that first, they ought to refer matters unto them,
which is the first begetting or impregnation; but
when they are elaborate, moulded, and shaped in
the womb of their counsel, and grow ripe and ready
to be brought forth, that then they suffer not their
council to go through with the resolution and di-
rection, as if it depended on them ; but take the mat-
ter back into their own hands, and make it appear
to the world, that the decrees and final directions
(which, because they come forth with prudence and
power, are resembled to Pallas armed), proceeded
from themselves ; and not only from their authority,
but (the more to add reputation to themselves)
from their head and device.

Let us now speak of the inconveniences of coun-
sel, and of the remedies. The inconveniences that
have been noted in calling and using counsel are
three : first, the revealing of affairs, whereby they
become less secret ; secondly, the weakening of the
authority of princes, as if they were less of them-
selves; thirdly, the danger of being unfaithfully

1 Hesiod, Theog, 886.
10

146 ESSAYS.

counselled, and more for the good of them that
counsel than of him that is counselled ; for which
inconveniences, the doctrine of Italy, and practice of
France, in some kings' times, hath introduced cabinet
councils; a remedy worse than the disease.^

As to secrecy, princes are not bound to commu-
nicate all matters with all counsellors, but may
extract and select; neither is it necessary that he
that consulteth what he should do, should declare
what he will do; but let princes beware that the
unsecreting of their affairs comes not from them-
selves ; and, as for cabinet councils, it may be their
motto, " Plenus rimarum sum : " ^ one futile person,
that maketh it his glory to tell, will do more hurt
than many that know it their duty to conceal. It
is true, there be some affairs which require extreme
secrecy, which will hardly go beyond one or two
persons besides the king. Neither are those coun-
sels unprosperous ; for, besides the secrecy, they
commonly go on constantly in one spirit of direction
without distraction ; but then it must be a prudent
king, such as is able to grind with a hand-mill ; ^
and those inward counsellors had need also to be
wise men, and especially true and trusty to the
king's ends; as it was with King Henry the

1 The political world has not been convinced of the truth of
this doctrine of Lord Bacon ; as cabinet councils are now held
probably by every sovereign in Europe.

2 " I am full of outlets." — Ter. Eun. I. ii. 25.

' That is, without a complicated machinery of government

OF COUNSEL. 147

Seventh of England, who, in his greatest business,
imparted himself to none, except it were to
Morton^ and Fox.^

For weakening of authority, the fable ^ showeth
the remedy ; nay, the majesty of kings is rather
exalted than diminished when they are in the chair
of council; neither was there ever prince bereaved
of his dependencies by his council, except where
there hath been either an over-greatness in one
counsellor, or an over-strict combination in divers,
which are things soon found and holpen.^

For the last inconvenience, that men will counsel
with an eye to themselves ; certainly, " non inveniet
fidem super terram," ^ is meant of the nature of
times,^ and not of all particular persons. There be

1 Master of the Rolls and Privy Councillor under Henry VI.,
to whose cause he faithfully adhered. Edward IV. promoted
him to the See of Ely, and made him Lord Chancellor. He was
elevated to the See of Canterbury by Henry VII., and in 1493
received the Cardinal's hat.

^ Privy Councillor and Keeper of the Privy Seal to Henry VII,,
and, after enjoying several bishoprics in succession, translated
to the See of Winchester. He was an able statesman, and highly
Talued by Henrj' VII. On the accession of Henry VIII. his
political influence was counteracted by Wolsey ; on which he
retired to his diocese, and devoted the rest of his life to acts of
piety and munificence.

8 Before mentioned, relative to Jupiter and Metis.

* Remedied.

* "He shall not find faith upon the earth." Lord Bacon
probably alludes to the words of our Saviour, St. Luke xviii. 8 :
" When the Son of man cometh, shall he find faith upon the
earth ? "

' He means to say, that this remark was only applicable to a

148 ESSAYS.

that are in nature faithful and sincere, and plain
and direct, not crafty and involved: let princes,
above all, draw to themselves such natures. Be-
sides, counsellors are not commonly so united, but
that one counsellor keepeth sentinel over another ;
so that if any do counsel out of faction or private
ends, it commonly comes to the king's ear ; but the
best remedy is, if princes know their counsellors, as
well as their counsellors know them : —

" Principis est virtus maxima nosse suos." l

And on the other side, counsellors should not be too
speculative into their sovereign's person. The true
composition of a counsellor is, rather to be skilful
in their master's business than in his nature ; ^ for
then he is like to advise him, and not to feed his
humor. It is of singular use to princes, if they
take the opinions of their councU both separately
and together ; for private opinion is more free, but
opinion before others is more reverend. In private,
men are more bold in their own humors; and in
consort, men are more obnoxious" to others' hu-
mors ; therefore it is good to take both ; and of the
inferior sort rather in private, to preserve freedom ;
of the greater, rather in consort, to preserve re-
spect. It is in vain for princes to take counsel

particular time, namely, the coming of Christ. The period of
the destruction of Jerusalem was probably referred to.

1 " 'T is the especial virtue of a prince to know his own men."

* In his disposition, or inclination.

• tfiftbU to oppositioii frooi.

OF COUNSEL. 149

concerning matters, if they take no counsel like-
wise concerning persons ; for all matters are as dead
images; and the life of the execution of affairs
resteth in the good choice of persons. Neither
is it enough to consult concerning persons, "secun-
dum genera," ^ as in an idea or mathematical de-
scription, what the kind and character of the person
should be; for the greatest errors are committed,
and the most judgment is shown, in the choice of
individuals. It was truly said, "Optimi consiliarii
mortui : " ^ " books ^tall speak plain when coun-
sellors blanch ; " ^ therefore it is good to be con-
versant in them, specially the books of such as
themselves have been actors upon the stage.

The councils at this day in most places are but
familiar meetings, where matters are rather talked
on than debated ; and they run too swift to the
order or act of council. It were better that in
causes of weight, the matter were propounded one
day and not spoken to till the next day ; " In nocte
consilium;"* so was it done in the commission of

1 " According to classes," or, as we vulgarly say, *' in the
lump." Lord Bacon means that princes are not, as a matter of
course, to take counsellors merely on the presumption of talent,
from their rank and station ; but that, on the contrary, they are
to select such as are tried men, and with regard to whom there
can be no mistake.

2 "The best counsellors are the dead."

* " Are afraid " to open their mouths.

* "Night-time for counsel." — iv yvKri iSovA.^. Oaisf. Par.
Or. B. 359.

150 ESSAYS.

union ^ between England and Scotland, which was
a grave and orderly assembly. I commend set
days for petitions; for both it gives the suitors
more certainty for their attendance, and it frees
the meetings for matters of estate, that they may
" hoc agere." ^ In choice of committees for ripen-
ing business for the council, it is better to choose
indifferent persons, than to make an indifferency
by putting in those that are strong on both sides.
I commend, also, standing commissions ; as for trade,
for treasure, for war, for suits, for some provinces;
for where there be divers particular councils, and
but one council of estate (as it is in Spain), they
are in effect no more than standing commissions,
save that they have greater authority. Let such
as are to inform councils out of their particular
professions (as lawyers, seamen, mintmen, and the
like) be first heard before committees ; and then,
as occasion serves, before the council ; and let them
not come in multitudes, or in a tribunitious ^ man-
ner ; for that is to clamor councils, not to inform
them. A long table and a square table, or seats
about the walls, seem things of form, but are things
of substance ; for at a long table a few at the upper
end, in effect, sway all the business; but in the

1 On the accession of James the Sixth of Scotland to the
throne of England in 1603.

2 A phrase much in use with the Romans, signifying, "to
attend to the business in hand."

^ A tribunitial or declamator}' manner.

OP DELAYS. 151

other form there is more use of the counsellors'
opinions that sit lower. A king, when he presides
in council, let him beware how he opens his own
inclination too much in that which he propoundeth ;
for else counsellors will but take the wind of him,
and, instead of giving free counsel, will sing him a
song of "placebo."^

XXL — OF DELAYS.

Fortune is like the market, where, many times,
if you can stay a little, the price will fall ; and again,
it is sometimes like Sibylla's ofFer,^ which at first

1 '* I '11 follow the bent of your humor."

* The Sibyl alluded to here is the CurajEau, the most cele-
brated, who oflFered the Sibylline Books for sale to Tarquin the
Proud.

"At this time, an unknown woman appeared at court, loaded
with nine voliunes, which she offered to sell, but at a very con-
siderable price. Tarquin refusing to give it, she withdrew and
burnt three of the nine. Some time after she returned to court,
and demanded the same price for the remaining six. This made
her looked iipon as a mad woman, and she was driven away with
sconi. Nevertheless, having burnt the half of what were left, she
came a third time, and demanded for the remaining three the
same price which she had asked for the whole nine. The novelty
of such a proceeding, made Tarquin curious to have the books
examined. They were put, therefore, into the hands of the augurs,
who, finding them to be the oracles of the Sybil of Cumse, declared
them to be an invaluable treasure. Upon this the woman was paid
the sum she demanded, and she soon after disappeared, having first
exhorted the Romans to preserve her books with care. " — Hooke's
Roman History.

152 ESSAYS.

ofFereth the commodity at full, then consumeth part
and part, and still holdeth up the price ; for occasion
(as it is in the common verse) "tumeth a bald
noddle,^ after she hath presented her locks in front,
and no hold taken ; " or, at least, turneth the handle
of the bottle first to be received, and after the belly,
which is hard to clasp.^ There is surely no greater
wisdom than well to time the beginnings and onsets
of things. Dangers are no more light, if they once
seem light; and more dangers have deceived men
than forced them ; nay, it were better to meet some
dangers half-way, though they come nothing near,
than to keep too long a watch upon their ap-
proaches ; for if a man watch too long, it is odds
he will fall asleep. On the other side, to be de-
ceived with too long shadows (as some have been
when the moon was low, and shone on their enemies*
back), and so to shoot off before the time ; or to
teach dangers to come on by over early buckling
towards them, is another extreme. The ripeness or
unripeness of the occasion (as we said) must ever be
well weighed ; and generally it is good to commit the
beginnings of all great actions to Argus with his hun-
dred eyes, and the ends to Briareus with his hundred
hands, first to watch and then to speed; for the
helmet of Pluto,^ which maketh the politic man go
invisible, is secrecy in the council, and celerity in

1 Bald head. He alludes to the common saying: "Take time
by the forelock."

2 Phsed. viii. « Horn. IL v. 845.

OF CUNNING. 153

the execution ; for wlien things are once come to
the execution, there is no secrecy comparable to
celerity ; like the motion of a bullet in the air,
which flieth so swift as it outruns the eye.

XXIL — OF CUNNING.

We take cimning for a sinister, or crooked wis-
dom ; and, certainly, there is great difference between
a cunning man and a wise man, not only in point of
honesty, but in point of ability. There be that can
pack the cards,^ and yet cannot play well ; so there
are some that are good in canvasses and factions,
that are otherwise weak men. Again, it is one
thing to understand persons, and another thing to
understand matters ; for many are perfect in men's
humors that are not greatly capable of the real part
of business, which is the constitution of one that
hath studied men more than books. Such men are
fitter for practice than for counsel, and they are
good but in their own alley. Turn them to new
men, and they have lost their aim ; so as the old
rule, to know a fool from a wise man, " Mitte am-
bos nudos ad ignotos, et videbis," ^ doth scarce hold

1 Packing the cards is an admirable illustration of the author's
meaning. It is a cheating exploit, by which knaves, who, per-
haps, are inferior players, insure to themselves the certainty of
good hands.

* "Send them both naked among strangers, and then you will

154 ESSAYS.

for them ; and, because these cunning men are like
haberdashers ^ of small wares, it is not amiss to set
forth their shop.

It is a point of cunning to wait upon ^ him with
whom you speak with your eye, as the Jesuits give
it in precept ; for there be many wise men that have
secret hearts and transparent countenances ; yet this
would be done with a demure abasing of your eye
sometimes, as the Jesuits also do use.

Another is, that when you have any thing to obtain
of present dispatch, you entertain and amuse the
party with whom you deal with some other discourse,
that he be not too much awake to make objections.
I knew a counsellor and secretary that never came
to Queen Elizabeth of England, with bills to sign,
but he would always first put her into some discourse
of estate,^ that she might the less mind the bills.

The like surprise may be made by moving things *
when the party is in haste, and cannot stay to con-
sider advisedly of that is moved.

If a man would cross a business that he doubts
some other would handsomely and eflfectually move,
let him pretend to wish it well, and move it himself,
in such sort as may foil it.

1 This word is used here in its primitive sense of " retaU deal-
ers." It is said to have been derived from a custom of the Flem-
ings, who first settled in this countiy in the fourteenth century,
stopping the passengers as they passed their shops, and saying to
them, " Haber das, herr?" — "Will you take this, sir?" The
word is now generally used as synonymous with linen-draper.

2 To watch.

* State. * Discussing matters.

OF CUNNING. 165

The breaking off in the midst of that one was
about to say, as if he took himself up, breeds a
greater appetite in him with whom you confer to
know more.

And because it works better when any thing
seemeth to be gotten from you by question than if
you offer it of yourself, you may lay a bait for a
question, by showing another visage and counte-
nance than you are wont ; to the end, to give occa-
sion for the party to ask what the matter is of the
change, as Nehemiah ^ did : " And I had not, before
that time, been sad before the king."

In things that are tender and unpleasing, it is
good to break the ice by some whose words are of
less weight, and to reserve the more weighty voice
to come in as by chance, so that he may be asked
the question upon the other's speech; as Narcissus
did, in relating to Claudius the marriage^ of Messa-
lina and Silius.

In things that a man would not be seen in himself,
it is a point of cunning to borrow the name of the

1 He refers to the occasion when Nehemiah, on presenting the
wine, as cnp-bearer to King Artaxerxes, appeared sorrowful, and,
on being asked the reason of it, entreated the king to allow Jeru-
salem to be rebuilt, — Nefiemiah ii. 1.

2 This can hardly be called a marriage, as, at the time of the
intrigue, Messalina was the wife of Claudius ; but she forced Caius
Silius, of whom she was deeply enamored, to divorce his own wife,
that she herself might enjoy his society. The intrigue was dis-
closed to Claudius by Narcissus, who was his freedman, and the
pander to his infamous vices ; on which Silius was put to death.
Vide Tac. Ann. xi. 29, seq.

156 ESSAYS.

world ; as to say, " The world says," or " There is a
speech abroad."

I knew one, that when he wrote a letter, he would
put that which was most material in a postscript, as
if it had been a by-matter.

I knew another, that when he came to have
speech,^ he would pass over that that he intended
most ; and go forth and come back again, and speak
of it as a thing that he had almost forgot.

Some procure themselves to be surprised at such
times as it is like the party that they work upon will
suddenly come upon them, and to be found with a
letter in their hand, or doing somewhat which they
are not accustomed, to the end they may be apposed
of ^ those things which of themselves they are de-
sirous to utter.

It is a point of cunning to let fall those words
in a man's own name, which he would have another
man learn and use, and thereupon take advantage.
I knew two that were competitors for the secretary s
place in Queen Elizabeth's time, and yet kept good
quarter ^ between themselves, and would confer one
with another upon the business ; and the one of
them said, that to be a secretary in the declination
of a monarchy was a ticklish thing, and that he did
not affect it ; ^ the other straight caught up those
words, and discoursed with divers of his friends, that
he had no reason to desire to be secretary in the

^ To speak in his turn. * Be questioned upon.

8 Kept on good terms. * Dosire it.

OF CUNNING. 157

declination of a monarchy. The first man took hold
of it, and found means it was told the queen, who,
hearing of a declination of a monarchy, took it so ill,
as she would never after hear of the other's suit.

There is a cunning, which we in England call
" the turning of the cat in the pan ; " which is,
when that wliich a man says to another, he lays it
as if another had said it to him ; and, to say truth,
it is not easy, when such a matter passed between
two, to make it appear from which of them it first
moved and began.

It is a way that some men have, to glance and
dart at others by justifying themselves by nega-
tives ; as to say, " This I do not ; " as Tigellinus
did towards Burrhus : " Se non diversas spes, sed
incolumitatem imperatoris simpliciter spectare." ^

Some have in readiness so many talcd and stories,
as there is nothing they would insinuate, but they
can wrap it into a tale ; ^ which serveth both to
keep themselves more in guard, and to make others
carry it with more pleasure.

It is a good point of cunning for a man to shape
the answer he would have in his own words and
propositions; for it makes the other party stick the
less.

^ "That he did not have various hopes in view, but solely the
safety of the emperor." Tigellinus was the profligate minister
of Nero, and Africanus Burrhus was the chief of the Prsetorian
Guards. — Tac. Ann. xiv. 57.

2 As Nathan did, when he reproved David for his criminality
with Bathsheba. — 2 Sarmiel xii.

158 ESSAYS.

It is strange how long some men will lie in wait
to speak somewhat they desire to say ; and how far
about they will fetch,^ and how many other matters
they will beat over to come near it. It is a thing
of great patience, but yet of much use.

A sudden, bold, and unexpected question doth
many times surprise a man, and lay him open. Like
to him, that, having changed his name, and walking
in Paul's,^ another suddenly came behind him and
called him by his true name, whereat straightways
he looked back.

But these small wares and petty points of cun-
ning are infinite, and it were a good deed to make
a list of them ; for that nothing doth more hurt in a
state than that cunning men pass for wise.

But certainly, some there are that know the re-
sorts^ and falls* of business that cannot sink into
the main of it ; ^ like a house that hath convenient
stairs and entries, but never a fair room. There-
fore you shall see them find out pretty looses^ in
the conclusion, but are noways able to examine or
debate matters ; and yet commonly they take ad-
vantage of their inability, and would be thought
wits of direction. Some build rather upon the

* Use indirect stratagems.

* He alludes to the old Cathedral of St. Paul, in London, which,
in the sixteenth century, was a common lounge for idlers.

* Movements, or springs.

* Chances, or vicissitudes.
' Enter deeply into.

" Faults, or weak points.

OF WISDOM FOR A MAN'S SELF. 159

abusing of others, and (as we now say) putting
tricks upon them, than upon soundness of their own
proceedings ; but Solomon saith : " Prudens advertit
ad gressus suos; stultus divertit ad dolos."^

XXIII.— OF WISDOM FOR A MAN'S SELF.

An ant is a wise creature for itself, but it is a
shrewd''^ thing in an orchard or garden; and cer-
tainly, men that are great lovers of themselves waste
the public. Divide with reason between self-love
and society; and be so true to thyself as thou be
not false to others, specially to thy king and coun-
try. It is a poor centre of a man's actions, himself.
It is right earth ; for that only stands fast upon his
own centre;* whereas all things that have affinity
with the heavens, move upon the centre of another,
which they benefit. The referring of all to a man's
self is more tolerable in a sovereign prince, because
themselves are not only themselves, but their good
and evil is at the peril of the public fortune ; but
it is a desperate evil in a servant to a prince, or

1 " The wise man gives heed to his own footsteps ; the fool tum-
eth aside to the snare. " No doubt he here alludes to Ecclesiastes
xiv. 2, which passage is thus rendered in our version : " The wise
man's eyes are in his head ; but the fool walketh in darkness."

2 Mischievous.

3 It must be remembered that Bacon was not a favorer of the
Copemican system.

160 ESSAYS.

a citizen in a republic; for whatsoever affairs pass
such a man's hands, he crooketh them to his own
ends, which must needs be often eccentric to the
ends of his master or state. Therefore, let princes
or states choose such servants as have not this mark ;
except they mean their service should be made but
the accessary. That which maketh the effect more
pernicious is, that all proportion is lost. It were
disproportion enough for the servant's good to be
preferred before the master's; but yet it is a greater
extreme, when a little good of the servant shall carry
things against a great good of the master. And
yet that is the case of bad officers, treasurers, am-
bassadors, generals, and other false and corrupt
servants ; which set a bias upon their bowl, of their
own petty ends and envies, to the overthrow of
their master's great and important affairs; and, for
the most part, the good such servants receive is
after the model of their own fortune ; but the hurt
they sell for that good is after the model of their
master's fortune. And certainly, it is the nature of
extreme self-lovers, as they will set a house on fire,
an it were but to roast their eggs; and yet these
men many times hold credit with their masters,
because their study is but to please them, and profit
themselves ; and for either respect they will abandon
the good of their affairs.

Wisdom for a man's self is, in many branches
thereof, a depraved thing. It is the wisdom of rats,
that will be sure to leave a house somewhat before

OF INNOVATIONS. 161

it fall ; it is the wisdom of the fox, that thrasts out
the badger who digged and made room for him ; it
is the wisdom of crocodiles, that shed tears when
they would devour. But that which is specially to
be noted is, that those which (as Cicero says of
Pompey) are "sui amantes, sine rivali,"^ are many
times unfortunate ; and whereas they have all their
times sacrificed to themselves, they become in the
end themselves sacrifices to the inconstancy of for-
tune, whose wings they thought by their self-wisdom
to have pinioned.

XXIV. — OF INNOVATIONS.

As the births of living creatures at first are ill-
shapen, so are all innovations, which are the births
of time; yet, notwithstanding, as those that first
bring honor into their family are commonly more
worthy than most that succeed, so the first prece-
dent (if it be good) is seldom attained by imitation ;
for ill to man's nature as it stands perverted, hath
a natural motion strongest in continuance, but good,
as a forced motion, strongest at first. Surely, every
medicine 2 is an innovation, and he that will not
apply new remedies must expect new evils, for time
is the greatest innovator; and if time, of course,

^ "Lovers of themselves without a rival." — Ad. Qu. Fr. iii. 8.
* Kemedy.

162 ESSAYS.

alter things to the worse, and wisdom and counsel
shall not alter them to the better, what shall be
the end ? It is true, that what is settled by custom,
though it be not good, yet, at least, it is fit; and
those things which have long gone together, are,
as it were, confederate within themselves ; ^ whereas
new things piece not so well ; but, though they help
by their utility, yet they trouble by their inconfor-
mity ; besides, they are like strangers, more admired
and less favored. All this is true, if time stood still,
which, contrariwise, moveth so round, that a froward
retention of custom is as turbulent a thing as an
innovation; and they that reverence too much old
times are but a scorn to the new. It were good,
therefore, that men in their innovations would follow
the example of time itself, which indeed innovateth
greatly, but quietly, and by degrees scarce to be
perceived ; for, otherwise, whatsoever is new is un-
looked for, and ever it mends some and pairs ^ other ;
and he that is holpen, takes it for a fortune, and
thanks the time ; and he that is hurt, for a wrong,
and imputeth it to the author. It is good, also, not
to try experiments in states, except the necessity
be urgent, or the utility evident ; and well to beware
that it be the reformation that draweth on the
change, and not the desire of change that pretendeth
the reformation ; and lastly, that the novelty, though
it be not rejected, yet be held for a suspect,^ and, as

1 Adapted to each other. * Injures or impairs.

• A thing suspected.

OF DISPATCH. 163

the Scripture saith, "That we make a stand upon
the ancient way, and then look about us, and dis-
cover what is the straight and right way, and so
to walk in it.^

XXV. — OF DISPATCH.

Affected dispatch is one of the most dangerous
things to business that can be ; it is like that which
the physicians call predigestion, or hasty digestion,
which is sure to fill the body full of crudities, and
secret seeds of diseases. Therefore, measure not
dispatch by the times of sitting, but by the advance-
ment of the business ; and as in races, it is not the
large stride, or high lift, that makes the speed, so
in business, the keeping close to the matter, and not
taking of it too much at once, procureth dispatch.
It is the care of some, only to come off speedily for
the time, or to contrive some false periods of busi-
ness, because they may seem men of dispatch ; but
it is one thing to abbreviate by contracting,^ another
by cutting off; and business so handled at several
sittings, or meetings, goeth commonly backward and
forward in an unsteady manner. I knew a wise

^ He probably alludes to Jeremiah vi. 16: "Thus saith the
Lord, Stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the old paths,
where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest
for your souls."

* That is, by means of good management.

164 ESSAYS.

man ^ that had it for a byword, when he saw men
hasten to a conclusion, " Stay a little, that we may
make an end the sooner."

On the other side, true dispatch is a rich thing ;
for time is the measure of business, as money is of
wares ; and business is bought at a dear hand where
there is small dispatch. The Spartans and Span-
iards have been noted to be of small dispatch : " Mi
venga la muerte de Spagna ; " " Let my death come
from Spain ; " for then it will be sure to be long
in coming.

Give good hearing to those that give the first
information in business, and rather direct them in
the beginning, than interrupt them in the continu-
ance of their speeches ; for he that is put out of
his own order will go forward and backward, and
be more tedious while he waits upon his memory,
than he could have been if he had gone on in
his own course ; but sometimes it is seen that the
moderator is more troublesome than the actor.

Iterations are commonly loss of time ; but there
is no such gain of time as to iterate often the state
of the question ; for it chaseth away many a frivo-
lous speech as it is coming forth. Long and cu-
rious speeches are as fit for dispatch as a robe, or
mantle, with a long train, is for a race. Prefaces,
and passages,'^ and excusations," and other speeches

1 It is supposed that he here alludes to Sir Amyas Paulet, a very
able statesman, and the ambassador of Queen Elizabeth to the
court of France.

' Quotations. • Apologies.

OF DISPATCH. 165

of reference to the person, are great wastes of time ;
and though they seem to proceed of modesty, they
are bravery.^ Yet beware of being too material
when there is any impediment, or obstruction in
men's wills; for preoccupation of mind^ ever re-
quireth preface of speech, like a fomentation to make
the unguent enter.

Above all things, order and distribution, and sin-
gling out of parts, is the life of dispatch, so as the
distribution be not too subtile ; for he that doth not
divide will never enter well into business ; and he
that divideth too much will never come out of it
clearly. To choose time is to save time; and an
unseasonable motion is but beating the air. There
be three parts of business, — the preparation ; the
debate, or examination ; and the perfection. Where-
of, if you look for dispatch, let the middle only be
the work of many, and the first and last the work
of few. The proceeding, upon somewhat conceived
in writing, doth for the most part facilitate dispatch ;
for though it should be wholly rejected, yet that
negative is more pregnant of direction than an in-
definite, as ashes are more generative than dust.

1 Boasting * Prejudice.

166 ESSAYS.

XXVI. — OF SEEMING WISE.

It hath been an opinion, that the French are
wiser than they seem, and the Spaniards seem wiser
than they are ; but howsoever it be between na-
tions, certainly it is so between man and man ; for,
as the apostle saith of godliness, " Having a show
of godliness, but denying the power thereof, " ^ so
certainly there are, in points of wisdom and suffi-
ciency, that do nothing, or little very solemnly, —
" magno conatu nugas." ^ It is a ridiculous thing,
and fit for a satire to persons of judgment, to see
what shifts these formalists have, and what pro-
spectives to make superficies to seem body, that hath
depth and bulk. Some are so close and reserved,
as they will not show their wares but by a dark
light, and seem always to keep back somewhat ;
and when they know within themselves they speak
of that they do not well know, would nevertheless
seem to others to know of that which they may
not well speak. Some help themselves with coun-
tenance and gesture, and are wise by signs ; as
Cicero saith of Piso, that when he answered him, he
fetched one of his brows up to his forehead, and
bent the other down to his chin : " Respondes, altero
ad frontem sublato, altero ad mentum depresso

1 2 Tim. iii. 6.

• "Trifles '.vith great effort."

OF SEEMING WISE. 167

supercilio ; crudelitatem tibi non placere." ^ Some
think to bear it by speaking a great word, and being
peremptory ; and go on, and take by admittance that
which they cannot make good. Some, whatsoever
is beyond their reach, will seem to despise or make
light of it as impertinent or curious, and so would
have their ignorance seem judgment. Some are
never without a difference, and commonly by amus-
ing men with a subtilty, blanch the matter ; of whom
A. Gellius saith, "Hominem delirum, qui verborum
minutiis rerum frangit pondera."^ Of which kind
also Plato, in his Protagoras, bringeth in Prodicus
in scorn, and maketh him make a speech that con-
sisteth of distinctions from the beginning to the end.^
Generally such men, in all deliberations, find ease
to be* of the negative side, and affect a credit to
object and foretell difiiculties ; for when propositions
are denied, there is an end of them, but if they be
allowed, it requireth a new work ; which false point
of wisdom is the bane of business. To conclude,
there is no decaying merchant, or inward beggar,® r

1 " With one brow raised to j'our forehead, the other bent
downward to your chin, you answer that cruelty delights you
not." — In Pis. 6.

'^ "A foolish man, who fritters away the weight of matters by
iinespun trifling on words." — Vide Quint, x. 1.

3 Plat. Protag. i. 337.

* Find it easier to make difficulties and objections than to
originate.

^ One really in insolvent circumstances, though to the world
he does not appear so.

168 ESSAYS.

hath so many tricks to uphold the credit of their
wealth, as these empty persons have to maintain
the credit of their sufficiency. Seeming wise men
may make shift to get opinion, but let no man
choose them for employment ; for certainly, you
were better take for business a man somewhat
absurd than over-formal.

XXVII. — OF FRIENDSHIP.

It had been hard for him that spake it, to have
put more truth and untruth together in few words
than in that speech : " Whosoever is delighted in
solitude, is either a wild beast or a god : " ^ for it is
most true, that a natural and secret hatred and
aversion towards society in any man hath somewhat
of the savage beast; but it is most untrue, that it
should have any character at all of the divine nature,
except it proceed, not out of a pleasure in solitude,
but out of a love and desire to sequester a man's self
for a higher conversation ; such as is found to have
been falsely and feignedly in some of the heathen ;
as Epimenides,^ the Candian ; Numa, the Roman ;

^ He here quotes from a passage in the Politica of Aristotle,
book i. "He wlio is unable to mingle in society, or who requires
nothing, by reason of sufficing for himself, is no part of the state,
80 that he is either a wild beast or a divinity."

^ Epimenides, a poet of Crete (of which Candia is the modem
name), is said by Pliny to have fallen into a sleep which lasted

OF FRIENDSHIP. 169

Empedocles, the Sicilian ; and ApoUonius, of Tyana ;
and truly and really in divers of the ancient hermits
and holy fathers of the church. But little do men
perceive what solitude is, and how far it extendeth ;
for a crowd is not company, and faces are but a
gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal,/
where there is no love. The Latin adage meeteth
with it a little : " Magna civitas, magna solitudo : " ^
because in a great town friends are scattered, so that
there is not that fellowship, for the most part, which
is in less neighborhoods : but we may go further,
and affirm most truly, that it is a mere and miserable
solitude to want true friends, without which the
world is but a wilderness; and even in this sense
also of solitude, whosoever in the frame of his nature
and affections is unfit for friendship, he taketh it of
the beasts, and not from humanity.

A principal fruit of friendship is the ease and dis-
charge of the fulness and swellings of the heart,

57 years. He was also said to have lived 299 years. Numa
pretended that he was instructed in the art of legislation by the
divine nymph Egeria, who dwelt in the Arician grove. Emped-
ocles, the Sicilian philosopher, declared himself to be immortal,
and to be able to cure all evils. He is said by some to have
retired from society that his death might not be known, and to
have thrown himself into the ci-ater of Mount Mtna,. ApoUonius
of Tyana, the Pythagorean philosopher, pretended to miraculous
powers, and after his death a temple was erected to him at that
place. His life is recorded by Pliilostratus; and some persons,
among whom are Hierocles, Dr. More, in his Mystery of Godliness,
and recently Strauss, have not hesitated to compare his miracles
with those of our Saviour.

1 " A great city, a great desert."

170 ESSAYS.

which passions of all kinds do cause and induce.
We know diseases of stoppings and suffocations are
the most dangerous in the body, and it is not much
otherwise in the mind. You may take sarza ^ to
open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flower of
sulphur for the lungs, castoreum ^ for the brain, but
no receipt openeth the heart but a true friend, to
whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes,
suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon the
heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or
confession.

It is a strange thing to observe how high a rate
great kings and monarchs do set upon this fruit of
friendship whereof we speak ; so great, as they pur-
chase it many times at the hazard of their own safety
and greatness ; for princes, in regard of the distance
of their fortune from that of their subjects and ser-
vants, cannot gather this fruit, except (to make them-
selves capable thereof) they raise some persons to be
as it were companions, and almost equals to them-
selves, which many times sorteth to inconvenience.
The modem languages give unto such persons the
name of favorites, or privadoes, as if it were matter
of grace or conversation ; but the Roman name at-
taineth the true use and cause thereof, naming them
" participes curarum ; " ^ for it is that which tieth
the knot. And we see plainly that this hath been

1 Sarsaparilla.

3 A liquid matter of a pungent smell, extracted from a portion of
the body of the beaver.
* " Partakers of cares."

OF FRIENDSHIP. 171

done, not by weak and passionate princes only, but
by the wisest and most politic that ever reigned, who
have oftentimes joined to themselves some of their
servants, whom both themselves have called friends,
and allowed others likewise to call them in the same
manner, using the word which is received between
private men.

L. Sylla, when he commanded Rome, raised Pom-
pey (after surnamed the Great) to that height, that
Pompey vaunted himself for Sylla's overmatch ; for
when he had carried the consulship for a friend of
his, against the pursuit of Sylla, and that Sylla did a
little resent thereat, and began to speak great, Pora-
pey turned upon him again, and, in effect, bade him
be quiet ; for that more men adored the sun rising
than the sun setting.^ With Julius Csesar, Decimus
Brutus had obtained that interest, as he set him
down in his testament for heir in remainder after his
nephew ; and this was the man that had power with
him to draw him forth to his death ; for when Caesar
would have discharged the senate, in regard of some
ill presages, and specially a dream of Calphumia, this
man lifted him gently by the arm out of his chair,
telling him he hoped he would not dismiss the senate
till his wife had dreamt a better dream ; ^ and it
seemeth his favor was so great, as Antonius, in a
letter which is recited verbatim in one of Cicero's

1 Plutarch {Vit. Pomp. 19) relates that Pompey said this upon
Sylla's refusal to give him a triumph.

2 Plut. Vit. J. Gees. 64.

172 ESSAYS.

Philippics, calleth him venefica, "witch," as if he
had enchanted Csesar.^ Augustus raised Agrippa
(though of mean birth) to that height, as, when he
consulted with Maecenas about the marriage of his
daughter Julia, Maecenas took the liberty to tell him,
that he must either marry his daughter to Agrippa,
or take away his life ; there was no third way, he
had made him so great. With Tiberius Caesar, Se-
janus had ascended to that height, as they two were
termed and reckoned as a pair of friends. Tiberius,
in a letter to him, saith, " Hsec pro amiciti^ nostra
non occultavi ; " ^ and the whole senate dedicated an
altar to Friendship, as to a goddess, in respect of
the great dearness of friendship between them two.
The like, or more, was between Septimius Severus
and Plautianus ; for he forced his eldest son to
marry the daughter of Plautianus, and would often
maintain Plautianus in doing affronts to his son ;
and did write, also, in a letter to the senate, by these
words : " I love the man so well, as I wish he may
over-live me." ^ Now, if these princes had been as a
Trajan, or a Marcus Aurelius, a man might have
thought that this had proceeded of an abundant
goodness of nature ; but being men so wise,* of such
strength and severity of mind, and so extreme lovers

1 Cic. Philip, xiii. 11.

2 " These things, by reason of our friendship, I have not con-
cealed/toot you." — Vide Tac. Ann. iv. 40.

■ Dio Cass. Ixxv.

* Such infamous men as Tiberius and Sejanus hardly deserve this
commendation.

OF FRIENDSHIP. 173

of themselves, as all these were, it proveth most
plainly that they found their own felicity (though as
great as ever happened to mortal men) but as an
half-piece, except they might have a friend to make
it entire ; and yet, which is more, they were princes
that had wives, sons, nephews ; and yet all these
could not supply the comfort of friendship.

It is not to be forgotten what Comineus ^ observ-
eth of his first master, Duke Charles the Hardy ,^
namely, that he would communicate his secrets with
none, and, least of all, those secrets which troubled
him most. Whereupon he goeth on, and saith, that
towards his latter time, that closeness did impair
and a little perish his understanding. Surely, Comi-
neus might have made the same judgment, also, if
it had pleased him, of his second master, Louis the
Eleventh, whose closeness was indeed his tormentor.
The parable of Pythagoras is dark, but true : " Cor
ne edito," " eat not the heart." ^ Certainly, if a

* Philip de Comines.

' Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, the valiant antagonist
of Louis XI. of France. De Comines spent his early years at
his court, but afterwards passed into the service of Louis XL
This monarch was notorious for his cruelty, treachery, and dis-
simulation, and had all the bad qualities of his contemporary, Ed-
ward IV. of England, without any of his redeeming virtues.

' Pythagoras went still further than this, as he forbade his
disciples to eat flesh of any kind whatever. See the interesting
speech which Ovid attributes to him in the fifteenth book of tha
Metamorphoses. Sir Thomas Browne, in his Pseudoxia (Browne's
Works, Bohn's Antiq. ed. vol. i. p. 27, et seq.\ gives some curious
explanations of the doctrines of this philosopher. — PliU,. de EduccU.
Pwr. 17.

174 ESSAYS.

man would give it a hard phrase, those that want
friends to open themselves unto are cannibals of
their own hearts ; but one thing is most admirable
(wherewith I will conclude this first fruit of friend-
ship), which is, that this communicating of a man's
self to his friend works two contrary effects, for it
redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in halves ; for
/there is no man that imparteth his joys to his friend,
( but he joyeth the more ; and no man that imparteth
Vhis griefs to his friend, but he grieveth the less.
So that it is, in truth, of operation upon a man's
mind of like virtue as the alchemists used to attrib-
ute to their stone for man's body, that it worketh all
contrary effects, but still to the good and benefit of
nature. But , yet, without praying in aid of al-
chemists, there is a manifest image of this in the
ordinary course of nature ; for, in bodies, union
strengtheneth and cherisheth any natural action ;
and, on the other side, weakeneth and duUeth any
violent impression ; and even so it is of minds.

The second fruit of friendship is healthful and sov-
ereign for the understanding, as the first is for the
affections ; for friendship maketh indeed a fair day
in the affections from storm and tempests, but it
maketh daylight in the understanding, out of dark-
ness and conftision of thoughts. Neither is this to
be understood only of faithful counsel, which a man
receiveth from his friend ; but before you come
to that, certain it is, that whosoever hath his
mind fraught with many thoughts, his wits and

OF FRIENDSHIP. 175

understanding do clarify and break up in the commu-
nicating and discoursing with another ; he tosseth
his thoughts more easily ; he marshalleth them more
orderly ; he seeth how they look when they are
turned into words ; finally, he waxeth wiser than
himself ; and that more by an hour's discourse than
by a day's meditation. It was well said by The-
raistocles to the king of Persia : " That speech was
like cloth of Arras,^ opened and put abroad, whereby
the imagery doth appear in figure ; whereas in
thoughts they lie but as in packs." ^ Neither is this
second fruit of friendship, in opening the under-
standing, restrained only to such fi'iends as are able
to give a man counsel (they indeed are best), but
even without that a man learneth of himself, and
bringeth his own thoughts to light, and whetteth his
wits as against a stone, which itself cuts not. In a
word, a man were better relate himself to a statue
or picture, than to suffer his thoughts to pass in
smother.

Add now, to make this second fruit of friendship
complete, that other point which lieth more open,
and falleth within vulgar observation ; which is
faithful counsel from a friend. Heraclitus saith
well, in one of his enigmas, " Dry light is ever the
best ; " ^ and certain it is, that the light that a man

1 Tapestry. Speaking hypercritically, Lord Bacon commits an
anachronism here, as Arras did not manufacture tapestry till the
middle ages.

8 Plut. Vit. Themist. 28.

» Ap. Stob. Serm. v. 120.

176 ESSAYS.

receiveth by counsel from another, is drier and
purer than that which cometh from his own under-
standing and judgment, which is ever inftised and
drenched in his affections and customs. So, as there
is as much difference between the counsel that a
friend giveth, and that a man giveth himself, as there
is between the counsel of a friend and of a flatterer ;
for there is no such flatterer as is a man's self, and
there is no such remedy against flattery of a man's
self, as the liberty of a friend. Counsel is of two
sorts, — the one concerning manners, the other con-
cerning business ; for the first, the best preservative
to keep the mind in health, is the faithful admonition
of a friend. The calling of a man's self to a strict
account is a medicine sometimes too piercing and
corrosive ; reading good books of morality is a little
flat and dead ; observing our faults in others is
sometimes improper for our case ; but the best re-
ceipt (best, I say, to work, and best to take), is the
admonition of a friend. It is a strange thing to
behold what gross errors and extreme absurdities
many (especially of the greater sort) do commit
for want of a friend to tell them of them, to the
great damage both of their fame and fortune; for,
as St. James saith, they are as men "that look
sometimes into a glass, and presently forget their
own shape and favor." ^ As for business, a man
may think, if he will, that two eyes see no more
than one; or, that a gamester seeth always more

^ James i. 23.

OF FRIENDSHIP. 177

than a looker-on ; or, that a man in anger is as wise
as he that has said over the four and twenty let-
ters ; ^ or, that a musket may be shot off as well
upon the arm as upon a rest ; ^ and such other fond
and high imaginations, to think himself all in all ;
but when all is done, the help of good counsel is
that which setteth business straight. And if any
man think that he will take counsel, but it shall be
by pieces, asking counsel in one business of one
man, and in another business of another man ; it is
well (that is to say, better, perhaps, than if he
asked none at all) ; but he runneth two dangers, —
one, that he shall not be faithfully counselled ; for
it is a rare thing, except it be from a perfect and
entire friend, to have counsel given, but such as
shall be bowed and crooked to some ends which he
hath that giveth it ; the other, that he shall have
counsel given, hurtful and unsafe (though with good
meaning), and mixed partly of mischief, and partly
of remedy; even as if you would call a physician,
that is thought good for the cure of the disease you
complain of, but is unacquainted with your body ;
and, therefore, may put you in a way for a present
cure, but overthroweth your health in some other
kind, and so cure the disease and kill the patient.

1 He alludes to the recommendation which moralists have often
given, that a person in anger should go through the alphabet to
himself, before he allows himself to speak.

* In his day, the musket was fixed upon a stand, called the
"rest," much as the giugals or matchlocks are used in the East at
the present day.

178 \ ESSAYS.

But a friend, that is wholly acquainted with a
man's estate, will beware, by furthering any present
business, how he dasheth upon other inconvenience ;
and, therefore, rest not upon scattered counsels ;
they wUl rather distract and mislead, than settle
and direct.

After these two noble fruits of friendship (peace
in the affections, and support of the judgment),
followeth the last fruit, which is like the pomegran-
ate, full of many kernels ; I mean aid, and bearing
a part in all actions and occasions. Here the best
way to represent to life the manifold use of friend-
ship, is to cast and see how many things there are
which a man cannot do himself; and then it will
appear that it was a sparing speech of the ancients
to say, " that a friend is another himself," for that
a friend is far more than himself. Men have their
time, and die many times in desire of some things
which they principally take to heart ; the bestowing
of a child, the finishing of a work, or the like. If
a man have a true friend, he may rest almost secure
that the care of those things will continue after him ;
so that a man hath, as it were, two lives in his de-
sires. A man hath a body, and that body is con-
fined to a place ; but where friendship is, all offices
of life are, as it were, granted to him and his deputy,
for he may exercise them by his friend. How
many things are there, which a man cannot, with
any face or comeliness, say or do himself? A man
can scarce allege his own merits with modesty,

OF EXPENSE. /179

much less extol them ; a man cannot sometimes
Lrook to supplicate, or beg, and a number of the
like ; but all these things are graceful in a friend's
mouth, which are blushing in a man's own. So,
again, a man's person hath many proper relations
which he cannot put off. A man cannot speak to his
son but as a father ; to his wife but as a husband ;
to his enemy but upon terms ; whereas, a friend
may speak as the case requires, and not as it sorteth
with the person. But to enumerate these things
were endless ; I have given the rule, where a man
cannot fitly play his own part. If he have not a
friend, he may quit the stage.

XXVIII. — OF EXPENSE.

Riches are for spending, and spending for honor
and good actions; therefore, extraordinary expense
must be limited by the worth of the occasion ; for
voluntary undoing may be as well for a man's coun-
try as for the kingdom of heaven; but ordinary
expense ought to be limited by a man's estate, and
governed with such regard, as it be within his com-
pass, and not subject to deceit and abuse of servants,
and ordered to the best show, that the bills may be
less than the estimation abroad. Certainly, if a
man will keep but of even hand, his ordinary

180 ESSAYS.

expenses ought to be but to the half of his receipts ;
and, if he think to wax rich, but to the third part.
It is no baseness for the greatest to descend and
look into their own estate. Some forbear it, not
upon negligence alone, but doubting to bring them-
selves into melancholy, in respect they shall find it
broken ; but wounds cannot be cured without search-
ing. He that cannot look into his own estate at
all, had need both choose well those whom he em-
ployeth, and change them often ; for new are more
timorous, and less subtle. He that can look into
his estate but seldom, it behooveth him to turn all
to certainties. A man had need, if he be plentiful
in some kind of expense, to be as saving again in
some other: as, if he be plentiful in diet, to be
saving in apparel ; if he be plentiful in the hall, to
be saving in the stable ; and the like. For he that
is plentiful in expenses of all kinds, will hardly
be preserved from decay. In clearing^ of a man's
estate, he may as well hurt himself in being too
sudden, as in letting it run on too long; for hasty
selling is commonly as disadvantageable as interest.
Besides, he that clears at once will relapse ; for,
finding himself out of straits, he will revert to his
customs ; but he that cleareth by degrees induceth
a habit of frugality, and gaineth as well upon his
mind as upon his estate. Certainly, who hath a
state to repair, may not despise small things ; and,
commonly, it is less di^onorable to abridge petty

^ From debts and incumbrancea.

OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 181

charges, than to stoop to petty getticgs. A man
ought warily to begin charges, wiiich once begun
will continue; but in matters that return not, he
may be more magnificent.

XXIX. — OF THE TRUE GREATNESS OF KING-
DOMS AND ESTATES.

The speech of Themistocles, the Athenian, which
was haughty and arrogant, in taking so much to
himself, had been a grave and wise observation and
censure, applied at large to others. Desired at a
feast to touch a lute, he said, " He could not fiddle,
but yet he could make a small town a great city."^
These words (holpen a little with a metaphor) may
express two difi^erent abilities in those that deal in
business of estate; for if a true survey be taken
of counsellors and statesmen, there may be found
(though rarely) those which can make a small state
great, and yet cannot fiddle : as, on the other side
there will be found a great many that can fiddle
very cunningly, but yet are so far from being able
to make a small state great, as their gift lieth the
other way, — to bring a great and flourishing estate
to niin and decay. And certainly, those degenerate
arts and shifts, whereby many counsellors and gov-
ernors gain both favor with their masters and

1 Plut. Yit. Themist. ad init

182 ESSAYS.

estimation with the vulgar, deserve no better name
than fiddling; being things rather pleasing for the
time, and graceful to themselves only, than tending
to the weal and advancement of the state which
they serve. There are also (no doubt) counsellors
and governors which may be held sufficient, " nego-
tiis pares," -^ able to manage affairs, and to keep
them from precipices and manifest inconveniences;
which, nevertheless, are far from the ability to raise
and amplify an estate in power, means, and fortune.
But be the workmen what they may be, let us speak
of the work ; that is, the true greatness of kingdoms
and estates, and the means thereof. An argument
fit for great and mighty princes to have in their
hand ; to the end, that neither by overmeasuring
their forces, they lose themselves in vain enterprises :
nor, on the other side, by undervaluing them, they
descend to fearful and pusillanimous counsels.

The greatness of an estate, in bulk and territory,
doth fall under measure ; and the greatness of
finances and revenue doth fall under computation.
The population may appear by musters, and the
number and greatness of cities and towns by cards
and maps; but yet there is not anything amongst
civil aflFairs more subject to error than the right
valuation and true judgment concerning the power
and forces of an estate. The kingdom of heaven
is compared, not to any great kernel, or nut, but to

1 " Equal to busiaesa."

OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 183

a grain of mustard-seed ; ^ which is one of the least
grains, but hath in it a property and spirit hastily
to get up and spread. So are there states great in
territory, and yet not apt to enlarge or command;
and some that have but a small dimension of stem,
and yet apt to be the foundations of great mon-
archies.

Walled towns, stored arsenals and armories, goodly
races of horse, chariots of war, elephants, ordnance,
artillery, and the like ; all this is but a sheep in a
lion's skin, except the breed and disposition of the
people be stout and warlike. Nay, number itself
in armies importeth not much, where the people is
of weak courage ; for, as Virgil saith, " It never
tr<mbles a wolf how many the sheep be."^ The
army of the Persians in the plains of Arbela was
such a vast sea of people, as it did somewhat as-
tonish the commanders in Alexander's army, who
came to him, therefore, and wished him to set upon
them by night; but he answered, "He would not
pilfer the victory;" and the defeat was easy.^ —
When Tigranes,* the Armenian, being encamped

1 He alludes to the following passage, St. Matthew xiii. 31 :
" Another parable put he forth unto them, saying, The kingdom
of heaven is like to a grain of mustard-seed, which a man took and
sowed in his field ; which indeed is the least of all seeds ; but when
it is grown, it is the greatest among herbs, and becometh a tree,
so that the birds of the air come and lodge in the branches thereof."

2 Virg. Eel. vii. 51. « Vide. A. L. i. vii. 11.

< He was vanquished by Lucullus, and finally submitted to
Pompey. — Plut, Fit. Lucull. 27.

184 ESSAYS.

upon a hill with four hundred thousand men, dis-
covered the army of the Romans, being not above
fourteen thousand, marching towards him, he made
himself merry with it, and said, " Yonder men are
too many for an arabassage, and too few for a fight ; "
but before the sun set, he found them enow to give
him the chase with infinite slaughter. Many are
the examples of the great odds between number and
courage; so that a man may truly make a judgment,
that the principal point of greatness in any state is
to have a race of military men. Neither is money
the sinews of war (as it is trivially said), where the
sinews of men's arms, in base and effeminate people,
are failing: for Solon said well to Croesus (when
in ostentation he showed him his gold), " Sir, if any
other come that hath better iron than you, he will
be master of all this gold." Therefore, let any priuce
or state, think soberly of his forces, except his mil-
itia of natives be of good and valiant soldiers ; and
let princes, on the other side, that have subjects of
martial disposition, know their own strength, unless
they be otherwise wanting unto themselves. As for
mercenary forces (which is the help in this case), all
examples show that, whatsoever estate or prince doth
rest upon them, he may spread his feathers for a
time, but he will mew them soon after.

The blessing of Judah and Issachar^ will never

^ He alludes to the prophetic words of Jacob on his death-l>ed.
Gen. xlix, 9, 14, 15: "Judah is a lion's whelp; ... he stooped
down, he couched as a lion, and as an old lion. . . . Issachar la

OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 185

meet ; that the same people, or nation, should be
both the lion's whelp and the ass between burdens ;
neither will it be, that a people overlaid with taxes
should ever become valiant and martial. It is true
that taxes, levied by consent of the estate, do abate
men's courage less ; as it hath been seen notably
in the excises of the Low Countries, and, in some
degree, in the subsidies ^ of England ; for, you must
note, that we speak now of the heart, and not of the
purse ; so that, although the same tribute and tax,
laid by consent or by imposing, be all one to the
purse, yet it works diversely upon the courage. So
that you may conclude, that no people overcharged
with tribute is fit for empire.

Let states that aim at greatness take heed how
their nobility and gentlemen do multiply too fast ;
for that maketh the common subject grow to be a
peasant and base swain, driven out of heart, and,
in effect, but the gentleman's laborer. Even as you
may see in coppice woods ; if you leave your stad-
dles^ too thick, you shall never have clean under-
wood, but shrubs and bushes. So in countries, if
the gentlemen be too many, the commons will be
base ; and you will bring it to that, that not the

a strong ass couching down between two burdens : And he saw
that rest was good, and the land that it was pleasant ; and bowed
his shoulder to bear, and became a servant unto tribute."

1 Sums of money voluntarily contributed by the people for the
use of the sovereign.

2 Youne: trees.

186 ESSAYS

hundred poll will be fit for a helmet, especially as
to the infantry, which is the nerve of an army ;
and so there will be great population and little
strength. This which I speak of, hath been nowhere
better seen than by comparing of England and
France; whereof England, though far less in terri-
tory and population, hath been, nevertheless, an
overmatch ; in regard, the middle people of Eng-
land make good soldiers, which the peasants of
France do not. And herein the device of King
Henry the Seventh (whereof I have spoken largely
in the history of his life) was profound and admira-
ble ; in making farms and houses of husbandry of
a standard, that is, maintained with such a propor-
tion of land unto them as may breed a subject to
live in convenient plenty, and no servile condition,
and to keep the plough in the hands of the owners,
and not mere hirelings ; and thus, indeed, you shall
attain to Virgil's character, which he gives to an-
cient Italy: —

" Terra potens armis atque ubere glebse." ^

Neither is that state (which, for anything I know,
is almost peculiar to England, and hardly to be
found anywhere else, except it be, perhaps, in Po-
land), to be passed over; I mean the state of free
servants and attendants upon noblemen and gentle-
men, which are noways inferior unto the yeomanry

1 "A land strong in arms and in the richness of the soil." -^
Virg. JEn. L 535.

OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 187

for arms ; and, therefore, out of all question, the
splendor and magnificence, and great retinues, and
hospitality of noblemen and gentlemen received into
custom, do much conduce unto martial greatness;
whereas, contrariwise, the close and reserved living
of noblemen and gentlemen causeth a penury of
military forces.

By all means, it is to be procured that the trunk
of Nebuchadnezzar's tree of monarchy ^ be great
enough to bear the branches and the boughs ; that
is, that the natural subjects of the crown, or state,
bear a sufficient proportion to the stranger subjects
that they govern. Therefore, all states that are
liberal of naturalization towards strangers are fit for
empire ; for to think that a handful of people can,
with the greatest courage and policy in the world,
embrace too large extent of dominion, it may hold
for a time, but it will fail suddenly. The Spartans
were a nice people in point of naturalization ; where-
by, while they kept their compass, they stood firm ;
but when they did spread, and their boughs were
becoming too great for their stem, they became a
windfall upon the sudden. Never any state was,

^ He alludes to the dream of Nebuchadnezzar, which is men-
tioned Daniel iv. 10 ; "1 saw, and behold a tree in the midst of
the earth, and the height thereof was great. The tree grew, and
was strong, and the height thereof reached unto heaven, and the
sight thereof to the end of all the earth : the leaves thereof were
fair, and the fruit thereof much, and in it was meat for all ; the
beasts of the field had shadow under it, and the fowls of the
heaven dwelt in the boughs thereof, and all flesh was fed of it."

188 ESSAYS.

in this point, so open to receive strangers into their
body as were the Romans ; therefore, it sorted with
them accordingly, for they grew to the greatest
monarchy. Their manner was to grant naturali-
zation (which they called "jus civitatis "),^ and to
grant it in the highest degree, that is, not only
"jus commercii,"'^ "jus connubii,"^ "jus hsereditatis; "*
but, also, "jus suflfragii,"^ and "jus honorum;"^
and this not to singular persons alone, but likewise
to whole families ; yea, to cities and sometimes to
nations. Add to this their custom of plantation of
colonies, whereby the Roman plant was removed
into the soil of other nations, and, putting both
constitutions together, you will say, that it was not
the Romans that spread upon the world, but it was
the world that spread upon the Romans; and that
was the sure way of greatness. I have marvelled
sometimes at Spain, how they clasp and contain so
large dominions mth so few natural Spaniards ; ^
but sure the whole compass of Spain is a very
great body of a tree, far above Rome and Sparta at
the first; and, besides, though they have not had
that usage to naturalize liberally, yet they have
that which is next to it ; that is, to employ, almost

^ "Right of citizenship." ^ "Right of trading."

* " Right of intermarriage." * "Right of inheritance."

' " Right of suffrage." • "Right of honors."

'' Long since the time of Lord Bacon, as soon as these colonies

had arrived at a certain state of maturity, they at different period*

revolted from the mother country.

OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES, 189

indifferently, all nations in their militia of ordinary
soldiers; yea, and sometimes in their highest com-
mands; nay, it seemeth at this instant they are
sensible of this want of natives, as by the pragmat-
ical sanction,^ now published, appeareth.

It is certain that sedentary and within-door arts,
and delicate manufactures (that require rather the
finger than the arm), have in their nature a contra-
riety to a military disposition ; and, generally, all
warlike people are a little idle, and love danger
better than travail ; neither must they be too much
broken of it, if they shall be preserved in vigor.
Therefore, it was great advantage in the ancient
states of Sparta, Athens, Rome, and others, that
they had the use of slaves, which commonly did
rid those manufactures; but that is abolished, in
greatest part, by the Christian law. That which
cometh nearest to it is, to leave those arts chiefly to
strangers (which, for that purpose, are the more
easily to be received), and to contain the principal
bulk of the vulgar natives within those three kinds,
tillers of the ground, free servants, and handicrafts-
men of strong and manly arts; as smiths, masons,
carpenters, &c., not reckoning professed soldiers.

But, above all, for empire and greatness, it im-
porteth most, that a nation do profess arms as their
principal honor, study, and occupation ; for tlie

1 The laws and ordinances promulgated by the sovereigns of
Spain were so called. The term was derived from the Byzantine
empire.

190 ESSAYS.

things which we formerly have spoken of are but
habilitations ^ towards arms; and what is habilita-
tion without intention and act ? Romulus, after his
death (as they report or feign), sent a present to
the Romans, that, above all, they should intend^
arms, and then they should prove the greatest em-
pire of the world. The fabric of the state of Sparta
was wholly (though not wisely) framed and com-
posed to that scope and end ; the Persians and
Macedonians had it for a flash ;^ the Gauls, Ger-
mans, Goths, Saxons, Normans, and others, had it
for a time ; the Turks have it at this day, though in
great declination. Of Christian Europe, they that
have it are in effect only the Spaniards ; but it is so
plain, that every man profiteth in that he most
intendeth, that it needeth not to be stood upon. It
is enough to point at it, that no nation which doth
not directly profess arms, may look to have great-
ness fall into their mouths ; and, on the other side,
it is a most certain oracle of time, that those states
that continue long in that profession (as the Romans
and Turks principally have done), do wonders ; and
those that have professed arms but for an age have,
notwithstanding, commonly attained that greatness
in that age which maintained them long after, when
their profession and exercise of arms had grown to
decay.

Incident to this point is, for a state to have those

> Qualifications. * Attend to.

* For a short or transitory period.

OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 191

laws or customs which may reach forth unto them
just occasions (as may be pretended) of war ; for
there is that justice imprinted in the nature of men,
that they enter not upon wars (whereof so many
calamities do ensue), but upon some, at the least
specious grounds and quarrels. The Turk hath at
hand, for cause of war, the propagation of his law
or sect, a quarrel that he may always command.
The Romans, though they esteemed the extending
the limits of their empire to be great honor to
their generals when it was done, yet they never
rested upon that alone to begin a war. Firsi;,
therefore, let nations that pretend to greatness have
this, that they be sensible of wrongs, either upon
borderers, merchants, or politic ministers; and that
they sit not too long upon a provocation : secondly,
let them be pressed,^ and ready to give aids and
succors to their confederates, as it ever was with
the Romans ; insomuch, as if the confederate had
leagues defensive with divers other states, and, upon
invasion offered, did implore their aids severally,
yet the Romans would ever be the foremost, and
leave it to none other to have the honor. As for
the wars, which were anciently made on the behalf
of a kind of party, or tacit conformity of estate, I
do not see how they may be well justified : as when
the Romans made a war for the liberty of Grsecia;
or, when the Lacedsemonians and Athenians made
wars to set up or pull down democracies and oligar-

^ Be in a hurry.

192 ESSAYS.

chies ; or when wars were made by foreigners, under
the pretence of justice or protection, to deliver the
subjects of othera from tyranny and oppression, and
the like. Let it suffice, that no estate expect to be
great, that is not awake upon any just occasion of
arming.

Nobody can be healthful without exercise, neither
natural body nor politic; and, certainly, to a king-
dom, or estate, a just and honorable war is the true
exercise. A civil war, indeed, is like the heat of a
fever; but a foreign war is like the heat of exer-
cise, and serveth to keep the body in health ; for,
in a slothful peace, both courages will effeminate
and manners corrupt. But, howsoever it be for
happiness, without all question for greatness, it
maketh to be still, for the most part, in arras ; and
the strength of a veteran army (though it be a
chargeable business) always on foot, is that which
commonly giveth the law, or, at least, the reputation
amongst all neighbor states, as may well be seen in
Spain,^ which hath had, in one part or other, a
veteran army, almost continually, now by the space
of sixscore years.

To be master of the sea is an abridgment of a
monarchy. Cicero, writing to Atticus, of Pompey's
preparation against Caesar, saith, "Consilium Pom-
peii plane Themistocleum est ; putat enim, qui mari

1 It was its immense armaments that in a great measure con-
sumed the vitals of Spain.

OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 193

potitur, eum rerum potiri ; ^ and, without doubt,
Pompey had tired out Caesar, if upon vain confi-
dence he had not left that way. We see the great
effects of battles by sea. The battle of Actium
decided the empire of the world : the battle of Le-
panto arrested the greatness of the Turk. There
be many examples where sea-fights have been final
to the war ; but this is when princes, or states, have
set up their rest upon the battles. But thus much
is certain, that he that commands the sea is at great
liberty, and may take as much and as little of the
war as he will ; whereas, those that be strongest by
land are many times, nevertheless, in great straits.
Surely, at this day, with us of Europe, the vantage
of strength at sea (which is one of the principal
dowries of this kingdom of Great Britain) is great ;
both because most of the kingdoms of Europe are
not merely inland, but girt with the sea most part
of their compass ; and because the wealth of both
Indies seems, in great part, but an accessary to the
command of the seas.

The wars of latter ages seem to be made in the
dark, in respect of the glory and honor which re-
flected upon men from the wars in ancient time.
There be now, for martial encouragement, some de-
grees and orders of chivalry, which, nevertheless,
are conferred promiscuously upon soldiers and no

1 "Pompey's plan is clearly that of Themistocles ; for he be-
lieves that whoever is master of the sea will obtain the supreme
power," — Ad Att. x. 8.

194 ESSAYS.

soldiers ; and some remembrance, perhaps, upon the
escutcheon, and some hospitals for maimed soldiers,
and such like things ; but in ancient times, the tro-
phies erected upon the place of the victory ; the
funeral laudatives,^ and monuments for those that
died in the wars ; the crowns and garlands per-
sonal; the style of emperor which the great kings
of the world after borrowed ; the triumphs of the
generals upon their return ; the great donatives and
largesses upon the disbanding of the armies ; were
things able to inflame all men's courages. But, above
all, that of the triumph amongst the Romans was
not pageants or gaudery, but one of the wisest and
noblest institutions that ever was ; for it contained
three things : honor to the general, riches to the
treasury out of the spoils, and donatives to the army.
But that honor, perhaps, were not fit for monarchies,
except it be in the person of the monarch himself,
or his sons ; as it came to pass in the times of the
Roman emperors, who did impropriate the actual
triumphs to themselves and their sons, for such wars
as they did achieve in person, and left only for wars
achieved by subjects, some triumphal garments and
ensigns to the general.

To conclude. No man can by care-taking (as the
Scripture saith) " add a cubit to his stature," ^
in this little model of a man's body ; but in the
great frame of kingdoms and commonwealths, it is

* Encomiums.

2 St. Matthew vi. 27; St. Luke xii. 25.

OF REGIMEN OF HEALTH. 195

in the power of princes, or estates, to add amplitude
and greatness to their kingdom ; for, by introducing
such ordinances, constitutions, and customs, as we
have now touched, they may sow greatness to their
posterity and succession : but these things are com-
monly not observed, but left to take their chance.

XXX. — OF REGIMEN OF HEALTH.

There is a wisdom in this beyond the rules of
physic. A man's own observation, what he finds
good of, and what he finds hurt of, is the best physic
to preserve health ; but it is a safer conclusion to
say, "This agreeth not well with me, therefore I
will not continue it ; " than this, " I find no offence
of this, therefore I may use it;" for strength of
nature in youth passeth over many excesses which
are owing ^ a man till his age. Discern of the com-
ing on of years, and think not to do the same things
still ; for age will not be defied. Beware of sudden
change in any great point of diet, and, if necessity
enforce it, fit the rest to it ; for it is a secret both in
nature and state, that it is safer to change many
things than one. Examine thy customs of diet,
sleep, exercise, apparel, and the like ; and try, in any
thing thou shalt judge hurtful, to discontinue it by
little and little; but so, as if thou dost find any

^ The effects of which must be felt in old age.

196 ESSAYS.

inconvenience by the change, thou come back to it
again ; for it is hard to distinguish that which is
generally held good and wholesome, from that which
is good particularly,* and fit for thine own body. To
be free-minded and cheerfully disposed at hours of
meat, and of sleep, and of exercise, is one of the
best precepts of long lasting. As for the passions
and studies of the mind, avoid envy, anxious fears,
anger fretting inwards, subtle and knotty inquisi-
tions, joys, and exhilarations in excess, sadness not
communicated. Entertain hopes, mirth rather than
joy, variety of delights, rather than surfeit of them ;
wonder and admiration, and therefore novelties;
studies that fill the mind with splendid and illustri-
ous objects, as histories, fables, and contemplations
of nature. If you fly physic in health altogether, it
will be too strange for your body when you shall
need it; if you make it too familiar, it will work no
extraordinary effect when sickness cometh. I com-
mend rather some diet, for certain seasons, than
frequent use of physic, except it be grown into a
custom ; for those diets alter the body more, and
trouble it less. Despise no new accident^ in your
body, but ask opinion* of it. In sickness, respect
health principally ; and in health, action ; for those
that put their bodies to endure in health, may, in
most sicknesses which are not very sharp, be cured

1 Of benefit in your individual case.

2 Any striking change in the constitution.
' Take medical advice.

OF SUSPICION. 197

only with diet and tendering. Celsus could never
have spoken it as a physician, had he not been a
wise man withal, when he giveth it for one of the
great precepts of health and lasting, that a man do
vary and interchange contraries, but with an inclina-
tion to the more benign extreme. Use fasting and
full eating, but rather full eating ; ^ watching and
sleep, but rather sleep; sitting and exercise, but
rather exercise, and the like ; so shall nature be
cherished, and yet taught masteries.^ Physicians are
some of them so pleasing and conformable to the
humor of the patient, as they press not the true cure
of the disease ; and some other are so regular in
proceeding according to art for the disease, as they
respect not sufficiently the condition of the patient.
Take one of a middle temper; or, if it may not be
found in one man, combine two of either sort ; and
forget not to call as well the best acquainted with
your body, as the best reputed of for his faculty.

XXXI. — OF SUSPICION.

Suspicions amongst thoughts are like bats amongst
birds, they ever fly by twilight. Certainly they are
to be repressed, or at the least well guarded; for
they cloud the mind, they lose friends, and they

1 Incline rather to fully satisfjang your hunger.
^ Celsus de Med. i. 1.

198 ESSAYS.

check with business, whereby business cannot go
on currently and constantly. They dispose kings to
tyranny, husbands to jealousy, wise men to irresolu-
tion and melancholy. They are defects, not in the
heart but in the brain ; for they take place in the
stoutest natures, as in the example of Henry the
Seventh of England. There was not a more suspi-
cious man, nor a more stout, and in such a composi-
tion they do small hurt ; for commonly they are not
admitted, but with examination, whether they be
likely or no ; but in fearful natures they gain ground
too fast. There is nothing makes a man suspect
much, more than to know little ; and, therefore, men
should remedy suspicion by procuring to know more,
and not to keep their suspicions in smother. What
would men have ? Do they think those they employ
and deal with are saints ? Do they not think they
will have their own ends, and be truer to themselves
than to them ? Therefore, there is no better way to
moderate suspicions, than to account upon such sus-
picions as true, and yet to bridle them as false : ^ for
so far a man ought to make use of suspicions as to
provide, as if that should be true that he suspects,
yet it may do him no hurt. Suspicions that the mind
of itself gathers are but buzzes ; but suspicions that
are artificially nourished, and put into men's heads
by the tales and whisperings of others, have stings.
Certainly, the best mean, to clear the way in this
same wood of suspicions, is frankly to communicate

1 To hope the best, but be fully prepared for the worst

OF DISCOUESE. 199

them with the party that he suspects : for thereby he
shall be sure to know more of the truth of them than
he did before ; and, withal, shall make that party
more circumspect, not to give further cause of sus»
picion. But tliis would not be done to men of base
natures ; for they, if they find themselves once sus-
pected, wUl never be true. The Italian says, " Sos-
petto licentia fede ; " ^ as if suspicion did give a
passport to faith ; but it ought rather to kindle it to
discharge itself.

^XXXII. — OF DISCOURSE.

Some in their discourse desire rather commenda-
tion of wit, in being able to hold all arguments,^ than
of judgment, in discerning what is true ; as if it were
a praise to know what might be said and not what
should be thought. Some have certain common-
places and themes, wherein they are good, and want
variety ; which kind of poverty is for the most part
tedious, and, when it is once perceived, ridiculous.
The honorablest part of talk is to give the occasion,^
and again to moderate and pass to somewhat else ;
for then a man leads the dance. It is good in dis-
course, and speech of conversation, to vary and

1 " Suspicion is the passport to faith."

2 A censure of this nature has been applied by some to Dr.
Johnson, and possibly with some reason.

* To start the subject.

200 ESSAYS.

intermingle speech of the present occasion with
arguments, tales with reasons, asking of questions
with telling of opinions, and jest with earnest ; for it
is a dull thing to tire, and, as we say now, to jade
any thing too far. As for jest, there be certain
things which ought to be privileged from it ; namely,
religion, matters of state, great persons, any man's
present business of importance, and any case that
deserveth pity ; yet there be some that think their
wits have been asleep, except they dart out some-
what that is piquant, and to the quick ; that is a
vein which would be bridled : ^ —

•' Parce, puer, stimulis, et fortius utere loris." ^

And, generally, men ought to find the difference
between saltness and bitterness. Certainly, he that
hath a satirical vein, as he maketh others afraid of
his wit, so he had need be afraid of others' memory.
He that questioneth much, shall learn much, and
content much, but especially if he apply his ques-
tions to the skill of the persons whom he asketh :
for he shall give them occasion to please themselves
in speaking, and himself shall continually gather
knowledge ; but let his questions not be troublesome,
for that is fit for a poser.^ And let him be sure to
leave other men their turns to speak ; nay, if there
be any that would reign and take up all the time,

^ Requires to be bridled.

2 He quotes here from Ovid : " Boy, spare the whip, and
tightly grasp the reins." — Met. ii. 127.
' One who tests or examines.

OP DISCOURSE. 201

let him find means to take them ofi", and to bring
others on, as musicians used to do with those tiiat
dance too long gaUiards.^ If you dissemble some-
times your knowledge of that you are thought to
know, you shall be thought, another time, to know
that you know not. Speech of a man's self ought
to be seldom, and well chosen. I knew one was
wont to say in scorn, " He must needs be a wise
man, he speaks so much of himself ; " and there is
but one case wherein a man may commend himself
with good grace, and that is in commending virtue
in another, especially if it be such a virtue whereunto
himself pretendeth. Speech of touch ^ towards others
should be sparingly used ; for discourse ought to be
as a field, without coming home to any man. I
knew two noblemen, of the west part of England,
whereof the one was given to scoff", but kept ever
royal cheer in his house ; the other would ask of
those that had been at the other's table, " Tell truly,
was there never a flout ^ or dry blow * given ? " To
which the guest would answer, " Such and such a
thing passed." The lord would say, " I thought he
would mar a good dinner." Discretion of speech is
more than eloquence ; and to speak agreeably to
him with whom we deal, is more than to speak in

^ The galliard was a light active dance, much la fashion in the
time of Queen Elizabeth.

2 Hits at, or remarks intended to be applied to, particular
individuals.

8 A slight or insult.

* A sarcastic remark.

202 ESSAYS.

good words, or in good order. A good continued
speech, without a good speech of interlocution, shows
slowness ; and a good reply, or second speech, with-
out a good settled speech, showeth shallowness and
weakness. As we see in beasts, that those that are
weakest in the course, are yet nimblest in the turn ;
as it is betwixt the greyhound and the hare. To use
too many circumstances, ere one come to the matter,
is wearisome ; to use none at all, is blunt.

XXXIII. — OF PLANTATIONS.*

Plantations are amongst ancient, primitive, and
heroical works. When the world was young, it
begat more children; but now it is old, it begets
fewer ; for I may justly account new plantations to
be the children of former kingdoms. I like a plan-
tation in a pure soil ; that is, where people are not
displanted,^ to the end to plant in others ; for else
it is rather an extirpation than a plantation. Plant-
ing of countries is like planting of woods ; for you
must make account to lose almost twenty years'
profit, and expect your recompense in the end ; for
the principal thing that hath been the destruction

1 The old term for colonies.

2 He perhaps alludes covertly to the conduct of the Spanianis
in extirpating the aboriginal inhabitants of the West India Islands,
against which the venerable Las Casaa so eloquently but vainly
proteste<l.

OF PLANTATIONS. 203

of most plantations, hath been the base and hasty
drawing of profit in the first years. It is true,
speedy profit is not to be neglected, as far as may
stand with the good of the plantation, but no further.
It is a shameful and unblessed thing ^ to take the
scum of people and wicked condemned men, to be
the people with whom you plant ; and not only so,
but it spoileth the plantation ; for they will ever live
like rogues, and not fall to work ; but be lazy, and
do mischief, and spend victuals, and be quickly
weary, and then certify over to their country to the
discredit of the plantation. The people wherewith
you plant ought to be gardeners, ploughmen, labor-
ers, smiths, carpenters, joiners, fishermen, fowlers,
with some few apothecaries, surgeons, cooks, and
bakers. In a country of plantations, first look about
what kind of victual the country yields of itself to
hand ; as chestnuts, walnuts, pine-apples, olives,
dates, plums, cherries, wild honey, and the like,
and make use of them. Then consider what victual,
or esculent things there are, which grow speedily,
and within the year ; as parsnips, carrots, turnips,
onions, radish, artichokes of Jerusalem, maize, and
the like. For wheat, barley, and oats, they ask too
much labor ; but with pease and beans you may
begin, both because they ask less labor, and because
tliey serve for meat as well as for bread ; and of

1 Of course, this censure would not apply to what is primarily
and essentially a convict colony ; the object of which is to drain
the mother country of its impure superfluities.

204 ESSAYS.

rice, Kkewise, coraeth a great increase, and it is a
kind of meat. Above all, there ought to be brought
store of biscuit, oatmeal, flour, meal, and the like, in
the beginning, till bread may be had. For beasts,
or birds, take chiefly such as are least subject to
diseases, and multiply fastest ; as swine, goats, cocks,
hens, turkeys, geese, house-doves, and the like. The
victual in plantations ought to be expended almost
as in a besieged town, that is, with certain allowance ;
and let the main part of the ground employed to gar-
dens or com, be to a common stock ; and to be laid
in, and stored up, and then delivered out in propor-
tion ; besides some spots of ground that any par-
ticular person will manure for his own private use.
Consider, likewise, what commodities the soil where
the plantation is doth naturally yield, that they may
some way help to defray the charge of the plantar
tion ; so it be not, as was said, to the untimely
prejudice of the main business, as it hath fared with
tobacco in Virginia.^ Wood commonly aboundcth
but too much ; and therefore timber is fit to be one.
If there be iron ore, and streams whereupon to set
the mills, iron is a brave commodity where wood
aboundcth. Making of bay-salt, if the climate be
proper for it, would be put in experience ; grow-
ing silk, likewise, if any be, is a likely commodity ;
pitch and tar, where store of firs and pines are, will

1 Times have much changed since this was penned, tobacco is
now the staple commodity, and the source of " the main business"
of Virginia.

OF PLANTATIONS. 205

not fail ; so drugs and sweet woods, where they are,
cannot but yield great profit ; soap-ashes, likewise,
and other things that may be thought of ; but moil ^
not too much under ground, for the hope of mines
is very uncertain, and useth to make the planters
lazy in other things. For government, let it be in
the hands of one, assisted with some counsel ; and
let them have commission to exercise martial laws,
with some limitation ; and, above all, let men make
that profit of being in the wilderness, as they have
God always, and his service, before their eyes. Let
not the government of the plantation depend upon
too many counsellors and undertakers in the country
that planteth, but upon a temperate number ; and
let those be rather noblemen and gentlemen, than
merchants, for they look ever to the present gain.
Let there be freedoms from custom, till the planta-
tion be of strength ; and not only freedom from
custom, but freedom to carry their commodities
where they may make their best of them, except
there be some special cause of caution. Cram not
in people, by sending too fast company after com-
pany; but rather hearken how they waste, and
send supplies proportionably ; but so as the num-
ber may live well in the plantation, and not by
surcharge be in penury. It hath been a gi'eat en-
dangering to the health of some plantations, that
thay have built along the sea and rivers, in marish ^

^ To labor hard.

2 Marshy ; from the French marais, a marsh.

206 ESSAYS.

and unwholesome grounds; therefore, though you
begin there, to avoid carriage and other like dis-
commodities, yet build still rather upwards from
the streams than along. It concerneth, likewise,
the health of the plantation, that they have good
store of salt with them, that they may use it in their
victuals when it shall be necessary. If you plant
where savages are, do not only entertain them with
trifles and gingles,^ but use them justly and gra-
ciously, with sufficient guard, nevertheless; and do
not win their favor by helping them to invade their
enemies, but for their defence it is not amiss ; and
send oft of them over to the country that plants,
that they may see a better condition than their own,
and commend it when they return. When the
plantation grows to strength, then it is time to plant
with women as well as with men ; that the planta-
tion may spread into generations, and not be ever
pieced from without. It is the sinfullest thing in
the world, to forsake or destitute a plantation once
in forwardness ; for, besides the dishonor, it is the
guiltiness of blood of many comraiserable persons.

* Gewgaws, or spangles.

OF RICHES. 207

XXXIV. — OF RICHES.

I CANNOT call riches better than the baggage of
vartue ; the Roman word is better, " impedimenta ; "
for as the baggage is to an army, so is riches to virtue ;
it cannot be spared nor left behind, but it hindereth
the march ; yea, and the care of it sometimes loseth
or disturbeth the victory. Of great riches there is
no real use, except it be in the distribution ; the rest
is but conceit. So saith Solomon : " Where much is,
there are many to consume it ; and what hath the
owner, but the sight of it with his eyes?"^ The
personal fruition in any man cannot reach to feel
great riches : there is a custody of them, or a power
of dole and donative of them, or a fame of them, but
no solid use to the owner. Do you not see what
feigned prices are set upon little stones and rarities ?
and what works of ostentation are undertaken, be-
cause there might seem to be some use of great
riches ? But then you will say, they may be of use
to buy men out of dangers or troubles ; as Solomon
saith : " Riches are as a strong-hold in the imagina-
tion of the rich man ; " ^ but this is excellently ex-

^ He alludes to Ecclesiastes v. 11, the words of which are some-
what varied in our version : ' ' When goods increase, they are in-
creased that eat them ; and what good is there to the owners thereof,
saving the beholding of them with their eyes ? "

* "The rich man's wealth is his strong city." — Proverbs x. 15 ;
iviii. 11.

208 ESSAYS.

pressed, that it is in imagination, and not always in
fact ; for, certainly, great riches have sold more men
than they have bought out. Seek not proud riches,
but such as thou mayest get justly, use soberly, dis-
tribute cheerfully, and leave contentedly; yet have
no abstract nor friarly contempt of them, but distin-
guish, as Cicero saith well of Rabirius Posthunius :
" In studio rei amplificandse apparebat, non ava-
ritise praedam, sed instrumentum bonitati quaeri. " ^
Hearken also to Solomon, and beware of hasty
gathering of riches : " Qui festinat ad di\itias, non
erit insons."^ The poets feign, that when Plutus
(which is riches) is sent from Jupiter, he limps,
and goes slowly ; but when he is sent from Pluto,
he runs, and is swift of foot; meaning, that riches
gotten by good means and just labor pace slowly ;
but when they come by the death of others^ (as by
the course of inheritance, testaments, and the like),
they come tumbling upon a man. But it might be
applied likewise to Pluto, taking him for the devil ;
for when riches come from the devil (as by fraud
and oppression, and unjust means), they come upon
speed. The ways to enrich are many, and most of

1 " In his anxiety to increase his fortune, it was evident that
not the gratification of avarice was sought, but the meauc of doing
good."

2 " He who hastens to riches will not be without guilt." In
our version the words are: "He that maketh haste to be rich
shall not be innocent." — Proverbs xxviii. 22,

8 Pluto being the king of the infernal regions, or place of de-
parted spirits.

OF RICHES. 209

them foul : parsimony is one of the best, and yet
is not innocent ; for it withholdeth men from works
of liberality and charity. The improvement of the
ground is the most natural obtaining of riches ; for
it is our great mother's blessing, the earth's, but it
is slow; and yet, where men of great wealth do
stoop to husbandry, it multiplieth riches exceed-
ingly. I knew a nobleman, in England, that had
tlie greatest audits ^ of any man in my time, a great
grazier, a great sheep-master, a great timber-man,
a great collier, a great corn-master, a great lead-
man, and so of iron, and a number of the like
points of husbandry ; so as the earth seemed a sea
to him in respect of the perpetual importation. It
was truly observed by one, "That himself came
very hardly to a little riches, and very easily to
great riches ; " for when a man's stock is come to
that, that he can expect the prime of markets,^ and
overcome those bargains, which for their greatness
are few men's money, and be partner in the indus-
tries of younger men, he cannot but increase mainly.
The gains of ordinary trades and vocations are
honest, and furthered by two things, chiefly: by
diligence, and by a good name for good and fair
dealing; but the gains of bargains are of a more
doubtful nature, when men shall wait upon others'
necessity : broke by servants and instruments to
draw them on ; put off others cunningly that would

1 Reut-roll, or account taken of income.
* Wait till prices have risen.

210 ESSAYS.

be better chapmen; and the like practices, which
are crafty and naught. As for the chopping of
bargains, when a man buys not to hold, but to sell
over again, that commonly grindeth double, both
upon the seller and upon the buyer. Sharings do
greatly enrich, if the hands be well chosen that are
trusted. Usury is the certainest means of gain,
though one of the worst; as that whereby a man
doth eat his bread, " in sudore vultiis alieni ; " ^
and, besides, doth plough upon Sundays; but yet
certain though it be, it hath flaws, for that the scriv-
eners and brokers do value unsound men to serve
their own turn. The fortune, in being the first in
an invention, or in a privilege, doth cause some-
times a wonderful overgrowth in riches, as it was
with the first sugar-man ^ in the Canaries; there-
fore, if a man can play the true logician, to have as
well judgment as invention, he may do great mat-
ters, especially if the times be fit. He that resteth
upon gains certain, shall hardly grow to great riches ;
and he that puts all upon adventures, doth often-
times break and come to poverty ; it is good, there-
fore, to guard adventures with certainties that may
uphold losses. Monopolies, and coemption of wares
for resale, where they are not restrained, are great
means to enrich ; especially if the party have intel-
ligence what things are like to come into request,

^ "In the sweat of auother's brow." He alludes to the words
of Genesis iii. 19 : "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread."
* Planter of sugar-canes.

OF RICHES. 211

and so store himself beforehand. Riches gotten by
service, though it be of the best rise, yet when they
are gotten by flattery, feeding humors, and other
servile conditions, they may be placed amongst the
worst. As for fishing for testaments and execu-
torships (as Tacitus saith of Seneca, '* Testamenta
et orbos tanquam indagine capi"),^ it is yet worse,
by how much men submit themselves to meaner
persons than in service. Believe not much them
that seem to despise riches, for they despise them
that despair of them; and none worse when they
come to them. Be not penny-wise ; riches have
wings, and sometimes they fly away of themselves,
sometimes they must be set flying to bring in more.
Men leave their riches either to their kindred, or
to the public ; and moderate portions prosper best
in both. A great state left to an heir, is as a lure
to all the birds of prey round about to seize on him,
if he be not the better stablished in years and judg-
ment ; likewise, glorious gifts and foundations are
like sacrifices v^ithout salt, and but the painted
sepulchres of alms, which soon will putrefy and cor-
rupt inwardly. Therefore, measure not thine ad-
vancements by quantity, but frame them by measure,
and defer not charities till death ; for, certainly,
if a man weigh it rightly, he that doth so is rather
liberal of another man's than of his own.

• " Wills and childless persons were caught by him, as though
with a hunting-net." — Tacit. Ann. xiii. 42.

212 ESSAYS.

XXXV. — OF PROPHECIES.

I MEAN not to speak of divine prophecies, nor of
heathen oracles, nor of natural predictions ; but only
of prophecies that have been of certain memory, and
from hidden causes. Saith the Pythonissa^ to Saul,
"To-morrow thou and thy sons shall be with me."
Virgil hath these verses from Homer: —

"Hie domus vEnese cunctis dominabitur oris,
Et nati natorum, et qui nascentur ab illis."*

A prophecy, as it seems, of the Roman empire.
Seneca the tragedian hath these verses: —

" Venient annis
Sajcula sens, quibus Oceanus
Vincula rerum laxet, et ingens
Pateat Tellus, Tiphysque novos
Detegat orl>es ; nee sit terns
Ultima Thule." 8

A prophecy of the discovery of America. The

1 " Pythoness," used in the sense of witch. He alludes to the
witch of Endor, and the words in Samuel xxviii. 19. He is, how-
ever, mistaken in attributing these words to the witch : it was the
spirit of Samuel that said, "To-morrow shalt thou and thy sons
be with me."

2 "But the house of ^Eneas shall reign over every shore, both
his children's children, and those who shall spring from them." —
^n. iii. 97.

' " After the lapse of years, ages will come in which Ocean
shall relax his chains around the world, and a va.st continent sliall
appear, and Tiphys shall explore new regions, and Thule shall be
1^0 longer the utmost verge of earth." — Sen. Med. ii. 375.

OF PROPHECIES. 213

daughter of Polycrates ^ dreamed that Jupiter bathed
her father, and Apollo anointed him ; and it came to
pass that he was crucified in an open place, where
the sun made his body run with sweat, and the rain
washed it. Philip of Macedon dreamed he sealed
up his wife's belly, whereby he did expound it,
that his wife should be barren ; but Aristander the
soothsayer told him his wife was with child, because
men do not use to seal vessels that are empty.^ A
phantasm that appeared to M. Brutus in his tent,
said to him, " Philippis iterum me videbis."^ Tibe-
rius said to Galba, "Tu quoque, Galba, degustabis
imperium." * In Vespasian's time, there went a
prophecy in the East, that those that should come
forth of Judea, should reign over the world; which,
though it may be was meant of our Saviour, yet Ta-
citus expounds it of Vespasian.^ Domitian dreamed,
the night before he was slain, that a golden head
was growing out of the nape of his neck;^ and,
indeed, the succession that followed him, for many
years, made golden times. Henry the Sixth of Eng-

^ He was king of Samos, and was treacherously put to death by
OrcEtes, the governor of Magnesia, in Asia Minor. His daughter,
in consequence of her dream, attempted to dissuade him from
visiting Oroetes, but in vain. — Herod, iii. 124.

» Plat. Vit. Alex. 2.

' "Thou shalt see me again at Philippi." — Appian Bell. Civ.
iv. 134.

♦ " Thou, also, Galba, shalt taste of empire." — Sitet. Fii.
Gall. 4.

« Hist. V. 13.

« Suet. vit. Domit. 23.

214 ESSAYS.

land said of Henry the Seventh, when he was a lad,
and gave him water, " This is the lad that shall enjoy
the crown for which we strive." When I was in
France, I heard from one Dr. Pena, that the queen
mother,^ who was given to curious arts, caused the
king her husband's nativity to be calculated under a
false name; and the astrologer gave a judgment,
that he should be killed in a duel; at which the
queen laughed, thinking her husband to be above
challenges and duels ; but he was slain upon a course
at tilt, the splinters of the staflp of Montgomery
going in at his beaver. The trivial prophecy which
I heard when I was a child, and Queen Elizabeth
was in the flower of her years, was,

*' When henipe is spunne,
England 's done ; "

whereby it was generally conceived, that after the
princes had reigned which had the principal letters
of that word hempe (which were Henry, Edward,
Mary, Philip, and Elizabeth), England should come
to utter confusion ; which, thanks be to God, is veri-
fied only in the change of the name ; for that the
king's style is now no more of England, but of
Britain.^ There was also another prophecy before
the year of eighty-eight, which I do not well under-
stand.

• Catherine de Medicis, the wife of Henry II. of France, who
died from a wound accidentally received in a touniament.
3 James I. being the fiist monarch of Great Britain.

OP PROPHECIES. 215

"There shall be seen upon a day.
Between the Baugh and the May,
The black fleet of Norway.
When that that is come and gone,
England build houses of lime and stone,
For after wars you shall have none."

It was generally conceived to be meant of the Span-
ish fleet that came in eighty-eight ; for that the king
of Spain's surname, as they say, is Norway. The
prediction of Regiomontanus,

" Octogesimus octavus mirabilis annus," ^

was thought likewise accomplished in the sending
of that great fleet, being the greatest in strength,
though not in number, of all that ever swam upon
the sea. As for Cleon's dream,^ I think it was a
jest ; it was, that he was devoured of a long dragon ;
and it was expounded of a maker of sausages, that
troubled him exceedingly. There are numbers of

^ "The eighty-eighth will be a wondrous year."
^ " Aristophanes, in his Comedy of the Knights, satirizes Cleon,
the Athenian demagogue. He introduces a declaration of the
oracle, that the Eagle of hides (by whom Cleon was meant, his
f^ither having been a tanner), should be conquered by a serpent,
which Demosthenes, one of the characters in the play, expounds
as meaning a maker of sausages. How Lord Bacon could for a
moment doubt that this was a mere jest, it is difficult to conjec-
ture. The followiug is a literal translation of a portion of the
passage from The Knights {1. 197) : "But when a leather eagle
with crooked talons shall have seized with its jaws a serpent, a
stupid creature, a drinker of blood, then the tan-pickle of the
Paphlagonians is destroyed ; but upon the sellers of sausages
the deity bestows great glory, unless they choose rather to sell
sausages."

216 ESSAYS.

the like kind, especially if you include dreams, and
predictions of astrology ; but I have set down these
few only of certain credit, for example. My judg-
ment is, that they ought all to be despised, and ought
to serve but for winter talk by the fireside ; though,
when I say despised, I mean it as for belief; for
otherwise, the spreading or publishing of them is in
no sort to be despised, for they have done much
mischief; and I see many severe laws made to
suppress them. That that hath given them grace,
and some credit, consisteth in three things. First,
that men mark when they hit, and never mark
when they miss;^ as they do, generally, also of
dreamy. The second is, that probable conjectures,
or obscure traditions, many times turn themselves
into prophecies; while the nature of man, which
coveteth divination, thinks it no peril to foretell
that which indeed they do but collect, as that of
Seneca's verse ; for so much was then subject to
demonstration, that the globe of the earth had great
parts beyond the Atlantic, which might be probably
conceived not to be all sea ; and adding thereto the
tradition in Plato's Timgeus, and his Atlanticus,^ it

1 This is a very just remark. So-called strange coincidences,
and wonderful dreams that are veiified, when the point is con-
sidered, are really not at all marvellous. We never hear of the
999 dreams that are not verified, but the thousandth that hap-
pens to precede its fulfilment is blazoned by unthinking people
as a marvel. It would be a much more wonderful thing if dreams
were not occasionally verified.

* Under this name he alludes to the Critias of Plato, in which
an imaginary "terra incognita" is discoursed of under the name

OF AMBITION. 217

might encourage one to turn it to a prediction.
The third and last (which is the great one), is, that
almost all of them, being infinite in number, have
been impostures, and, by idle and crafty brains,
merely contrived and feigned, after the event past.

^XXXVL — OF AMBITION.

Ambition is like choler, which is a humor that
maketh men active, earnest, full of alacrity, and
stirring, if it be not stopped ; but if it be stopped,
and cannot have its way, it becometh adust,^ and
thereby malign and venomous. So ambitious men,
if they find the way open for their rising, and still
get forward, they are rather busy than dangerous ;
but if they be checked in their desires, they be-
come secretly discontent, and look upon men and
matters with an evil eye, and are best pleased
when things go backward ; which is the worst prop-
erty in a servant of a prince or state. Therefore,
it is good for princes, if they use ambitious men, to
handle it so, as they be still progressive, and not
retrograde ; which, because it cannot be without
Inconvenience, it is good not to use such natures

of the "New Atlantis." It has been conjectured from this by
Bome, that Plato really did believe in the existence of a continent
on the other side of the globe.
^ Hot and fiery.

218 ESSAYS.

at all ; for if they rise not with their service, they
will take order to make their service fall with them.
But since we have said, it were good not to use men
of ambitious natures, except it be upon necessity, it
is fit we speak in what cases they are of necessity.
Good commanders in the wars must be taken, be
they never so ambitious ; for the use of their ser-
vice dispenseth with the rest ; and to take a soldier
without ambition, is to pull off his spurs. There
is also great use of ambitious men in being screens
to princes in matters of danger and envy; for no
man will take that part, except he be like a seeled ^
dove, that mounts and mounts, because he cannot
see about him. There is use, also, of ambitious
men, in pulling down the greatness of any subject
that overtops; as Tiberius used Macro ^ in the
pulling down of Sejanus. Since, therefore, they
must be used in such cases, there resteth to speak
how they are to be bridled, that they may be less
dangerous. There is less danger of them if they
be of mean birth, than if they be noble ; and if
they be rather harsh of nature, than gracious and
popular; and if they be rather new raised, than
grown cunning and fortified in their greatness. It
is counted by some a weakness in princes to have
favorites ; but it is, of all others, the best remedy

1 With the eyes closed or blindfolded.

^ He was a favorite of Tiberius, to whose murder by Nero he
was said to have been an accessar}'. He afterwards prostituted his
own wife to Caligula, by whom he was eventually put to death.

OF AMBITION. 219

against ambitious great ones ; for when the way of
pleasuring and displeasuring lieth by the favorite,
it is impossible any other should be over-great.
Another means to curb them, is, to balance them by
others as proud as they; but then there must be
some middle counsellors, to keep things steady, for
without that ballast, the ship will roll too much.
At the least, a prince may animate and inure some
meaner persons to be, as it were, scourges to ambi-
tious men. As for tlie having of them obnoxious
to ^ ruin, if they be of fearful natures, it may do
well ; but if they be stout and daring, it may pre-
cipitate their designs, and prove dangerous. As for
the pulling of them down, if the affairs require it,
and that it may not be done with safety suddenly,
the only way is, the interchange continually of
favors and disgraces, whereby they may not know
what to expect, and be, as it were, in a wood. Of
ambitions, it is less harmful the ambition to prevail
in great things, than that other to appear in every
thing ; for that breeds confusion, and mars busi-
ness ; but yet, it is less danger to have an ambitious
man stimng in business, than great in dependen-
cies. He that seeketh to be eminent amongst able
men, hath a great task, but that is ever good for
the public ; but he that plots to be the only figure
amongst ciphers, is the decay of a whole age.
Honor hath three things in it : the vantage-ground
to do good; the approach to kings and principal

^ Liable to.

220 ESSAYS.

persons; and the raising of a man's own fortunes.
He that hath the best of these intentions, when he
aspireth, is an honest man; and that prince that
can discern of these intentions in another that as-
pireth, is a wise prince. Generally, let princes and
states choose such ministers as are more sensible of
duty than of rising, and such as love business rather
upon conscience than upon bravery; and let them
discern a busy nature from a willing mind.

^XXXVIL — OF MASQUES AND TRIUMPHS.

These things are but toys to come amongst such
serious observations; but yet, since princes will
have such things, it is better they should be graced
with elegancy, than daubed with cost. Dancing to
song is a thing of great state and pleasure. I un-
derstand it that the song be in choir, placed aloft,
and accompanied with some broken music, and the
ditty fitted to the device. Acting in song, especially
in dialogues, hath an extreme good grace ; I say
acting, not dancing (for that is a mean and vulgar
thing) ; and the voices of the dialogue would be
strong and manly (a base and a tenor, no treble),
and the ditty high and tragical, not nice or dainty.
Several choirs, placed one over against another, and
taking the voices by catches anthem-wise, give great
pleasure. Turning dances into figure is a childish

OF MASQUES AND TRIUMPHS. 221

curiosity ; and, generally, let it be noted, that those
things which I here set down are such as do natu-
rally take the sense, and not respect petty wonder-
ments. It is true, the alterations of scenes, so it be
quietly and without noise, are things of great beauty
and pleasure: for they feed and relieve the eye
before it be full of the same object. Let the scenes
abound with light, specially colored and varied ;
and let the masquers, or any other that are to come
down from the scene, have some motions upon the
scene itself before their coming down ; for it draws
the eye strangely, and makes it with great pleasure
to desire to see that it cannot perfectly discern. Let \
the songs be loud and cheerful, and not chirpings/
or pulings ; ^ let the music, likewise, be sharp and
loud, and well placed. The colors that show best \
by candlelight, are white, carnation, and a kind of/
sear-water green; and ouches,^ or spangs,^ as they
are of no great cost, so they are of most glory. As
for rich embroidery, it is lost and not discerned.
Let the suits of the masquers be graceful, and such \
as become the person when the vizors are off; not/
after examples of known attires, Turks, soldiers,
mariners, and the like. Let anti-masques* not be

^ Chirpings like the noise of young birds.

2 Jewels or necklaces.

8 Spangles, or O's of gold or silver. Beckmann says tflat these
were invented in the beginning of the seventeenth century. See
Beckiuann's Hist, of Inventions (Bohn's Stand. Lib.), vol. L
p. 424.

* Or antic-masques. These were ridiculous interludes dividing

222 ESSAYS.

long; they have been commonly of fools, satyrs,
baboons, wild men, antics, beasts, sprites, witches,
Ethiopes, pigmies, turquets,^ nymphs, rustics, Cu-
pids, statues moving, and the like. As for angels,
it is not comical enough to put them in anti-masques ;
and any thing that is hideous, as devils, giants, is,
on the other side, as unfit ; but, chiefly, let the mu-
sic of them be recreative, and with some strange
changes. Some sweet odors suddenly coming forth,
without any drops falling, are, in such a company
as there is steam and heat, things of great pleasure
and refreshment. Double masques, one of men,
another of ladies, addeth state and variety ; but all
is nothing, except the room be kept clear and neat.

For justs, and tourneys, and barriers, the glories
of them are chiefly in the chariots, wherein the chal-
lengers make their entry ; especially if they be drawn
with strange beasts, as lions, bears, camels, and the
like ; or in the devices of their entrance, or in the
bravery of their liveries, or in the goodly furniture of
their horses and armor. But enough of these toys.

the acts of the more serious masque. These were performed by
hired actors, while the masque was played by ladies and gen-
tlemen. The rule was, the cliaracters were to be neither serious
nor hideous. The "Comus" of Milton is an admirable specimen
of a masque.
1 Turks.

OF NATURE IN MEN. 223

XXXVIIL — OF NATURE IN MEN.

Nature is often hidden, sometimes overcome, sel-
dom extinguished. Force maketh nature more vio-
lent in the return; doctrine and discourse maketh
nature less importune, but custom only doth alter
and subdue nature. He that seeketh victory over
his nature, let him not set himself too great nor too
small tasks ; for the first will make him dejected by
often failings, and the second will make him a small
proceeder, though by often prevailings. And at the
first, let him practise with helps, as swimmers do
with bladders, or rushes ; but, after a time, let him
practise with disadvantages, as dancers do with thick
shoes ; for it breeds great perfection, if the practice
be harder than the use. Where nature is mighty,
and therefore the victory hard, the degrees had need
be, first, to stay and arrest nature in time ; like to
him that would say over the four and twenty letters
when he was angry ; then to go less in quantity : as
if one should, in forbearing wine, come from drinking
healths to a draught at a meal ; and, lastly, to dis-
continue altogether ; but if a man have the fortitude
and resolution to enfi'anchise himself at once, that is
the best : —

" Optimus ille animi vindex Isedentia pectus
Vincula qui rapit, dedoluitque semel." i

^ " He is the best asserter of the liberty of his mind, who bursts
the chains that gall his breast, and at the same moment ceases to
grieve." — This quotation is from OvicCs Remedy of Love, 293.

224 ESSAYS.

Neither is the ancient rule amiss, to bend nature as
a wand to a contrary extreme, whereby to set it
right ; understanding it where the contrary extreme
is no >ace. Let not a man force a habit upon him-
self with a perpetual continuance, but with some
intermission, for both the pause reinforceth the new
onset ; and if a man that is not perfect be ever in
practice, he shall as well practise his errors as his
abilities, and induce one habit of both ; and there is
no means to help this but by seasonable intermis-
sions. But let not a man trust his victory over his
nature too far ; for nature will lie buried a great
time, and yet revive upon the occasion or tempta-
tion ; like as it was with JEsop's damsel, turned
from a cat to a woman, who sat very demurely at the
board's end till a mouse ran before her. Therefore,
let a man either avoid the occasion altogether, or put
himself often to it, that he may be little moved with
it. A man's nature is best perceived in privateness,
for there is no affectation ; in passion, for that put-
teth a man out of his precepts ; and in a new case
or experiment, for there custom leaveth him. They
are happy men whose natures sort with their voca-
tions; otherwise they may say, "Multum incola fuit
anima mea," ^ when they converse in those things
they do not affect. In studies, whatsoever a man
commandeth upon himself, let him set hours for it :
but whatsoever is agreeable to his nature, let him
take no care for any set times ; for his thoughts will

1 " My soul has long been a sojourner."

OF CUSTOM AND EDUCATION. 225

flj to it of themselves, so as the spaces of other busi-
ness or studies will suffice. A man's nature runs
either to herbs or weeds ; therefore, let him seasona-
bly water the one, and destroy the other.

XXXIX.— OF CUSTOM AND EDUCATION.

Mex's thoughts are much according to their incli-
nation ; ^ their discourse and speeches according to
their learning and infused opinions ; but their deeds
are, after, as they have been accustomed ; and, there-
fore, as Machiavel well noteth (though in an evil-
favored instance), there is no trusting to the force of
nature, nor to the bravery of words, except it be cor-
roborate by custom.^ His instance is, that, for the
achieving of a desperate conspiracy, a man should
not rest upon the fierceness of any man's nature, or
his resolute undertakings, but take such a one as
hath had his hands formerly in blood ; but Machiavel
knew not of a Friar Clement,^ nor a Ravaillac,* nor a

1 "The wish is father to the thought," is a proverbial saying
of similar meaning.

2 Vide Disc. Sop. Liv. iii. 6.

" Jac(jues Clement, a Dominican friar, who assassinated Henry
III. of France, in 1589. The sombre faJiatic was but twenty-five
year of age ; and he had announced the intention of killing with
his own hands the great enemy of his faith. He was instigated by
the Leaguers, and particularly by the Duchess of Montpensier, the
sister of the Duke of Guise.

* He murdered Henry IV. of France, in 1610.
15

226 ESSAYS.

Jaureguy,^ nor a Baltazar Gerard ; ^ yet his rule
holdeth still, that nature, nor the engagement of
words, are not so forcible as custom. Only super-
stition is now so well advanced, that men of the first
blood are as firm as butchers by occupation ; and
votary ^ resolution is made equipollent to custom,
even in matter of blood. In other things, the pro-
dominancy of custom is everywhere visible, insomuch
as a man would wonder to hear men profess, protest,
engage, give great words, and then do just as they
have done before, as if they were dead images and
engines, moved only by the wheels of custom. We
see, also, the reign or tyranny of custom, what it is.
The Indians * (I mean the sect of their wise men)
lay themselves quietly upon a stack of wood, and so
sacrifice themselves by fire ; nay, the wives strive to
be burned with the corpses of their husbands. The
lads of Sparta, of ancient time, were wont to be
scourged upon the altar of Diana, without so much
as quecking.^ I remember, in the beginning of
Queen Elizabeth's time of England, an Irish rebel
condemned, put up a petition to the deputy that he

^ Philip II. of Spain having, in 1582, set a price upon the head
of William of Nassau, Prince of Orange, the leader of the Prot-
estants, Jauregiiy attempted to assassinate him, and severely
wounded him.

'■' He assassinated William of Nassau, in 1584. It is supposed
that this fanatic meditated the crime for six years.

* A resolution prompted by a vow of devotion to a particular
principle or creed.

* He alludes to the Hindoos, and the ceremony of Suttee, en-
couraged by the Brahmins.

* Flinching. — Vide Cic. Tuscul. Disp. ii. 14.

OF CUSTOM AND EDUCATION. 227

might be hanged in a withe, and not in a halter,
because it had been so used with former rebels.
There be monks in Russia for penance, that will sit
a whole night in a vessel of water, till they be
engaged with hard ice. Many examples may be put
of the force of custom, both upon mind and body ;
therefore, since custom is the principal magistrate of
man's life, let men, by all means, endeavor to obtain
good customs. Certainly, custom is most perfect
when it beginneth in young years : this we call edu-
cation, which is, in effect, but an early custom. So
we see, in languages, the tongue is more pliant to all
expressions and sounds, the joints are more supple to
all feats of activity and motions in youth, than after-
wards ; for it is true, that late learners cannot so
well take the ply, except it be in some minds that
have not suffered themselves to fix, but have kept
themselves open and prepared to receive continual
amendment, which is exceeding rare. But if the
force of custom, simple and separate, be great, the
force of custom, copulate and conjoined and colleg-
iate, is far greater ; for there example teacheth,
company comforteth, emulation quickeneth, glory
raiseth ; so as in such places the force of custom is
in his exaltation. Certainly, the great multiplication
of virtues upon human nature resteth upon societies
well ordained and disciplined ; for commonwealths
and good governments do nourish virtue grown, but
do not much mend tho seeds ; but the misery is, that
the most effectual means arc now applied to the ends
least to be desired.

228 ESSAYS.

XL. — OF FORTUNE.

It cannot be denied, but outward accidents con-
duce much to fortune ; favor, opportunity, death of
others, occasion fitting virtue ; but, chiefly, the mould
of a man's fortune is in his own hands : " Faber
quisque fortunse suae," ^ saith the poet ; and the most
frequent of external causes, is that the folly of one
man is the fortune of another ; for no man prospers
so suddenly as by others' errors. "Serpens nisi
serpentem comederit non fit draco." ^ Overt and
apparent virtues bring forth praise : but there be
secret and hidden virtues that bring forth fortune ;
certain deliveries of a man's self, which have no
name. The Spanish name, " disemboltura," ^ partly
expresseth them, when there be not stonds* nor
restiveness in a man's nature, but that the wheels

1 " Every man is the architect of his own fortune," Sallust,
in his letters "De Republica Ordinandi," attributes these words
to Appius Claudius Caecus, a Roman poet whose works are now
lost. Lord Bacon, in the Latin translation of his Essays, which
was made under his supervision, rendered the word "poet"
"comicus ;" by whom he probably meant Plautus, who has this
line in his "Trinummus" (Act ii, so. 2) : "Nam sapiens quidem
pol ipsus fingit fortunam sibi," which has the same meaning,
though in somewhat different terms.

^ "A serpent, unless it has devoured a serpent, does not become
a dragon."

^ Or " desenvoltura," implying readiness to adapt one's self to
circumstances.

♦ Impediments, causes for hesitation.

OF FORTUNE. 229

of his mind keep way with the wheels of his for-
tune; for so Livy (after he had described Cato
Major in these words, " In illo viro, tantum robur
corporis et animi fuit, ut quocunque loco natus esset,
fortunam sibi facturus videretur,") ^ falleth upon that,
that he had " versatile ingenium : " ^ therefore, if a
man look sharply and attentively, he shall see For-
tune ; for though she be blind, yet she is not in-
visible. The way of Fortune is like the milky way
in the sky ; which is a meeting, or knot, of a number
of small stars, not seen asunder, but giving light
together ; so are there a number of little and scarce^
discerned virtues, or rather faculties and customs,
that make men fortunate. The Italians note some^
of them, such as a man would little think. When
they speak of one that cannot do amiss, they will
throw in into his other conditions, that he hath
" Poco di matto ; " ^ and, certainly, there be not two
more fortunate properties, than to have a little of
the fool, and not too much of the honest; there-
fore, extreme lovers of their country, or masters,
were never fortunate ; neither can they be, for when
a man placeth his thoughts without himself, he goeth
not his own way. A hasty fortune maketh an enter-
priser and remover (the French hath it better,
" entreprenant," or " remnant ") ; but the exercised

* "In that man there was such great strength of body and mind,
that, in whatever station he had been born, he seemed as though
he should make his fortune."

a "A versatile genius." « "A little of the fool."

230 ESSAYS.

fortune maketh the able man. Fortune is to be
honored and respected, and it be but for her daugh-
ters, Confidence and Reputation ; for those two Fe-
licity breedeth; the first within a man's self, the
latter in others towards him. All wise men, to
decline the envy of their own virtues, use to ascribe
them to Providence and Fortune; for so they may
the better assume them ; and, besides, it is great-
ness in a man to be the care of the higher powers.
So Caesar said to the pilot in the tempest, " Csesarem
portas, et fortunam ejus." ^ So Sylla chose the
name of " Felix," ^ and not of "Magnus;"^ and it
hath been noted, that those who ascribe openly too
much to their own wisdom and policy, end unfortu-
nate. It is written, that Timotheus * the Athenian,
after he had, in the account he gave to the state of
his government, often interlaced his speech, "and
in this Fortune had no part," never prospered in any
thing he undertook afterwards. Certainly there be,
whose fortunes are like Homer's verses, that have
a slide ^ and easiness more than the verses of other
poets ; as Plutarch saith of Timoleon's fortune in re-
spect of that of Agesilaus or Epaminondas ; and that
this should be, no doubt it is much in a man's self.

1 " Thou earnest Caesar and his fortunes." — Plul. Vit. Ccels. 38.

2 " The Fortunate." He attributed his success to the inter-
vention of Hercules, to whom he paid especial veneration.

» " The Great." — Plut. Syll. 34.

* A successful Athenian general, the son of Conon, and the
friend of Plato.

* Fluency, or smoothness.

OF USURY. 231

XLL — OF USURY.i

Many have made witty invectives against usury.
They say that it is pity the devil should have God's
part, which is the tithe ; that the usurer is the great
est Sabbath-breaker, because his plough goeth every
Sunday ; that the usurer is the drone that Virgil
speaketh of : —

" Ignavum fucos pecus a prsesepibus arcent ; " 2

that the usurer breaketh the first law that was made
for mankind after the fall, which was, "in sudore
vultiis tui comedos panem tuum ; " ^ not, " in sudore
vultds alieni ; " * that usurers should have orange-
tawny ^ bonnets, because they do Judaize ; that it is
against nature for money to beget money, and the
like. I say this only, that usury is a " concessum
propter duritiem cordis ; " ^ for, since there must be
borrowing and lending, and men are so hard of
heart as they will not lend freely, usury must be

1 Lord Bacon seems to use the word in the general sense of
"landing money upon interest."

2 " Drive from their hives the drones, a lazy race." — Georgics,
b. iv. 168.

8 " In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat thy bread." — Gen,
iii. 19.

♦ "In the sweat of the face of another."

* In the middle ages the Jews were compelled, by legal enact-
ment, to wear peculiar dresses and colore ; one of these was orange

' " A concession by reason of hardness of heart." He alludes
to the words in St. Matthew xix. 8.

232 ESSAYS.

permitted. Some others have made suspicious and
cunning propositions of banks, discovery of men's
estates, and other inventions ; but few have spoken
of usury usefully. It is good to set before us the
incommodities and commodities of usury, that the
good may be either weighed out, or culled out ; and
warily to provide, that, while we make forth to that
which is better, we meet not with that which is
worse.

The discommodities of usury are, first, that it
makes fewer merchants; for were it not for this
lazy trade of usury, money would not lie still, but
would, in great part, be employed upon merchan-
dising, which is the "vena porta "^ of wealth in a
state. The second, that it makes poor merchants ;
for as a farmer cannot husband his ground so well
if he sit at a great rent, so the merchant cannot
drive his trade so well if he sit^ at great usury.
The third is incident to the other two ; and that is,
the decay of customs of kings, or states, which ebb
or flow with merchandising. The fourth, that it
bringeth the treasure of a realm or state into a few
hands ; for the usurer being at certainties, and others
at uncertainties, at the end of the game most of the
money will be in the box ; and ever a state flourish-
eth when wealth is more equally spread. The fifth,
that it beats down the price of land ; for the em-
ployment of money is chiefly either merchandising
or purchasing, and usury waylays both. The sixth,

^ See note to Essay six. ' Hold.

OF USURY. 233

tiiat it doth dull and damp all industries, improve-
ments, and new inventions, wherein money would
be stirring, if it were not for this slug. The last,
that it is the canker and ruin of many men's estates,
which, in process of time, breeds a public poverty.
On the other side, the commodities of usury are,
first, that, howsoever usury in some respect hindereth
merchandising, yet in some other it advanceth it;
for it is certain that the greatest part of trade is
driven by young merchants upon borrowing at in-
terest ; so as if the usurer either call in, or keep
back his money, there will ensue presently a great
stand of trade. The second is, that, were it not for
this easy borrowing upon interest, men's necessities
would draw upon them a most sudden undoing, in
that they would be forced to sell their means (be it
lands or goods), far under foot ; and so, whereas
usury doth but gnaw upon them, bad markets would
swallow them quite up. As for mortgaging or
pawning, it will little mend the matter; for either
men will not take pawns without use, or, if they do,
they will look precisely for the forfeiture. I re-
member a cruel moneyed man in the country, that
would say, " The devil take this usury, it keeps us
from forfeitures of mortgages and bonds." The
third and last is, that it is a vanity to conceive that
there would be ordinary borrowing without profit ;
and it is impossible to conceive the number of
inconveniences that will ensue, if borrowing be
cramped. Therefore, to speak of the abolishing of

234 ESSAYS.

usury is idle ; all states have ever had it in one kind
or rate, or other; so as that opinion must be sent
to Utopia.^

To speak now of the reformation and reglement ^
of usury, how the discommodities of it may be best
avoided, and the commodities retained. It appears,
by the balance of commodities and discommodities
of usury, two things are to be reconciled ; the one,
that the tooth of usury be grinded, that it bite not
too much ; the other, that there be left open a means
to invite moneyed men to lend to the merchants,
for the continuing and quickening of trade. This
cannot be done, except you introduce two several
sorts of usury, a less and a greater; for if you
reduce usury to one low rate, it will ease the com-
mon borrower, but the merchant will be to seek for
money; and it is to be noted that the trade of
merchandise being the most lucrative, may bear
usury at a good rate; other contracts not so.

To serve both intentions, the way would be briefly
thus : that there be two rates of usury ; the one
free and general for all; the other under license
only to certain persons, and in certain places of
merchandising. First, therefore, let usury in gen-
eral be reduced to five in the hundred, and let that
rate be proclaimed to be free and current; and let
the state shut itself out to take any penalty for the

1 The imaginary country described in Sir Thomas More's politi*
cal romance of that name.

2 Regulation.

OF USURY. 235

same. This will preserve borrowing from any gen-
eral stop or dpyness ; this will ease infinite borrow-
ers in the country ; this will, in good part, raise the
price of land, because land purchased at sixteen
years' purchase will yield six in the hundred, and
somewhat more, whereas this rate of interest yields
but five. This, by like reason, will encourage and
edge industrious and profitable improvements, be-
cause many will rather venture in that kind, than
take five in the hundred, especially having been
used to greater profit. Secondly, let there be cer-
tain persons licensed to lend to known merchants
upon usury, at a higher rate, and let it be with the
cautions following: Let the rate be, even with the
merchant himself, somewhat more easy than that he
used formerly to pay; for, by that means, all bor-
rowers shall have some ease by this reformation,
be he merchant, or whosoever ; let it be no bank or
common stock, but every man be master of his own
money; not that I altogether mislike banks, but
they will hardly be brooked, in regard of certain
suspicions. Let the state be answered ^ some small
matter for the license, and the rest left to the lender ;
for if the abatement be but small, it will no whit dis-
courage the lender ; for he, for example, that took be-
fore ten or nine in the hundred, will sooner descend
to eight in the hundred, than give over his trade of
usury, and go from certain gains to gains of hazard.
Let these licensed lenders be in number indefinite,

^ Be paid.

236 ESSAYS.

but restrained to certain principal cities and towns
of merchandising ; for then they will be hardly able
to color other men's moneys in the country, so as
the license of nine will not suck away the current
rate of five ; for no man will send his moneys far
off, nor put them into unknown hands.

If it be objected, that this doth in a sort author-
ize usury, which before was in some places but
permissive ; the answer is, that it is better to miti-
gate usury by declaration, than to suffer it to rage
by connivance.^

1 Our author was one of the earliest writers who treated the
question of the interest of money with the enlightened views of
a statesman and an economist. The taking of interest was con-
sidered, in his time, immoral.

Laws on this matter are extremely ancient. Moses forbids the
Jews to require interest of each other. "Thou shalt not lend
upon usury to thy brother ; usury of money, usury of victuals,
usury of any thing that is lent upon usury :

"Unto a stranger thou mayest lend upon usury; but unto thy
brother thou shalt not lend upon usury." — Deut. xxiii. 19, 20.

Among the Greeks, the rate of interest was settled by agree-
ment between the borrower and the lender, without any inter-
ference of the law. The customary rate varied from ten to thirty-
three and one third per cent.

The Romans enacted laws against usurious interest ; but their
legal interest, admitted by the law of the Twelve Tables, was,
according to some, twelve per cent., or, to others, one twelfth of
the capital, i. e. eight and one third per cent. Justinian reduced
it to six per cent.

In England, the legal rate of interest was, in Henry the Eighth's
reign, ten per cent. It was reduced, in 1624, to eight per cent.
It was further diminished, in 1672, to six per cent. And defini-
tively, in 1713, fixed at five per (^ent., the ordinary rate of interest

OF YOUTH AND AGE. 237

XLIL — OF YOUTH AND AGE.

A MAN that is young in years may be old in
hours, if he have lost no time ; but that happeneth
rarely. Generally, youth is like the first cogitations,
not so wise as the second; for there is a youth in
thoughts as well as in ages ; and yet the invention
of young men is more lively than that of old, and
imaginations stream into their minds better, and, as
it were, more divinely. Natures that have much
heat, and great and violent desires and perturba-
tions, are not ripe for action till they have passed
the meridian of their years : as it was with Julius
Caesar and Septimius Severus ; of the latter of whom
it is said, " Juventutem egit erroribus, imo furoribus
plenam ; " ^ and yet he was the ablest emperor,
almost, of all the list ; but reposed natures may do
well in youth, as it is seen in Augustus Csesar,
Cosmus Duke of Florence, Gaston de Foix/ and
others. On the other side, heat and vivacity in age
is an excellent composition for business. Young
men are fitter to invent than to judge, fitter for
execution than for counsel, and fitter for new pro-

throughont Europe. In France, the rates of interest have been
nearly similar at the same periods.

1 "He passed his youth full of errors, of madness even." —
Spartian. Vit. Scv.

2 He was nephew of Louis the Twelfth of France, and com-
manded the French armies in Italy against the Spaniards. After
a brilliant career, he was killed at the battle of Ravenna, in 1512.

238 ESSAYS.

jects than for settled business; for the experience
of age, in things that fall within the compass of it,
directeth them; but in new things abuseth them.
The errors of young men are the ruin of business ;
but the errors of aged men amount but to this, that
more might have been done, or sooner.

Young men, in the conduct and manage of ac-
tions, embrace more than they can hold, stir more
than they can quiet ; fly to the end, without consid-
eration of the means and degrees ; pursue some few
principles which they have chanced upon absurdly ;
care not to innovate, which draws unknown incon-
veniences ; use extreme remedies at first ; and that,
which doubleth all errors, will not acknowledge
or retract them, like an unready horse, that will
neither stop nor turn. Men of age object too much,
consult too long, adventure too little, repent too
soon, and seldom drive business home to the full
period, but content themselves with a mediocrity of
success. Certainly, it is good to compound employ-
ments of both ; for that will be good for the pres-
ent, because the virtues of either iige may correct
the defects of both ; and good for succession, that
young men may be learners, while men in age are
actors ; and, lastly, good for cxterne accidents, be-
cause authority followeth old men, and favor and
popularity youth ; but, for the moral part, perhaps,
youth will have the preeminence, as age hath for
the politic. A certain rabbin, upon the text, " Your
young men shall see visions, and your old men shall

OF YOUTH AND AGE. 239

dream dreams/'^ inferreth that young men are ad-
mitted nearer to God than old, because vision is a
clearer revelation than a dream; and, certainly,
the more a man drinketh of the world, the more it
intoxicateth ; and age doth profit rather in the pow-
ers of understanding, than in the virtues of the
will and affections. There be some have an over-
early ripeness in their years, which fadeth betimes ;
these are, first, such as have brittle wits, the edge
whereof is soon turned ; such as was Hermogenes ^
the rhetorician, whose books are exceedingly subtle ;
who afterwards waxed stupid. A second sort is of
those that have some natural dispositions, which
have better grace in youth than in age ; such as is
a fluent and luxuriant speech, which becomes youth
well, but not age ; so TuUy saith of Hortensius :
" Idem manebat, neque idem decebat." ^ The third
is of such as take too high a strain at the first, and
are magnanimous more than tract of years can up-
hold ; as was Scipio Africanus, of whom lAvy saith,
in effect, " Ultima primis cedebant." *

1 Joel ii. 28, quoted Acts ii. 17.

2 He lived in the second century after Christ, and is said to
have lost his memory at the age of twenty-five.

* " He remained the same, but vrith the advance of years was
not so becoming." — Oic. Brut. 95.

* "The close was unequal to the beginning." This quotation
is not correct; the words are: " Memorabilior prima pars vita
quam postrema fuit," — "The first part of his life was more dis-
tinguished than the latter." — Livy xxxviiL ch. 53.

240 ESSAYS.

XLIIL — OF BEAUTY.

Virtue is like a rich stone, best plain set; and
surely virtue is best in a body that is comely, though
not of delicate features, and that hath rather dig-
nity of presence than beauty of aspect ; neither is it
always most seen, that very beautiful persons are other-
wise of great virtue ; as if nature were rather busy
not to err, than in labor to produce excellency ; and
therefore they prove accomplished, but not of great
spirit, and study rather behavior than virtue. But
this holds not always; for Augustus Caesar, Titus
Vespasianus, Philip le Bel of France, Edward the
Fourth of England,^ Alcibiades of Athens, Ismael
the Sophy of Persia, were all high and great spirits,
and yet the most beautiful men of their times. In
beauty, that of favor is more than that of color ; and
that of decent and gracious motion, more than that
of favor.2 That is the best part of beauty, which a
picture cannot express ; no, nor the first sight of the
life. There is no excellent beauty that hath not
some strangeness in the proportion. A man cannot
tell whether Apelles, or Albert Durer, were the more
trifler ; whereof the one would make a personage by

1 By the context, he would seem to consider "great spirit"
and " virtue " as convertible terms. Edward IV., however, has
no claim to be considered as a virtuous or magnanimous man,
though he possessed great physical courage.

' Features.

OF DEFORMITY. 241

geometrical proportions ; the other, by taking the
best parts out of divers faces to make one excellent.
Such personages, I think, would please nobody but
the painter that made them : not but I think a
painter may make a better face than ever was ; but
he must do it by a kind of felicity (as a musician
that maketh an excellent air in music), and not by
rule. A man shall see faces, that, if you examine
them part by part, you shall find never a good, and
yet altogether do well. If it be true that the prin-
cipal part of beauty is in decent motion, certainly it
is no marvel, though persons in years seem many
times more amiable ; " Pulchrorum autumnus pul-
cher ; " ^ for no youth can be comely but by pardon,^
and considering the youth as to make up the comeli-
ness. Beauty is as summer fruits, which are easy
to corrupt, and cannot last ; and, for the most part,
it makes a dissolute youth, and an age a little out of
countenance ; but yet certainly again, if it light well,
it maketh virtues shine, and vices blush.

XLIV.— OF DEFORMITY.

Deformed pei-sons are commonly even with nar-
ture ; for, as nature hath done ill by them, so do they
by nature, being for the most part (as the Scripture

1 ** The autumn of the beautiful is beautiful."
' By making allowances.

242 ESSAYS.

saith) " void of natural affection ; " ^ and so tliey
have their revenge of nature. Certainly, there is a
consent between the body and the mind, and where
nature erreth in the one, she ventureth in the other :
" Ubi peccat in uno, periclitatur in altero." ^ But
because there is in man an election, touching the
frame of his mind, and a necessity in the frame of his
body, the stars of natural inclination are sometimes
obscured by the sun of discipline and virtue ; there-
fore, it is good to consider of deformity, not as a sign
which is more deceivable, but as a cause which sel-
dom faileth of the effect. Whosoever hath any thing
fixed in his person that doth induce contempt, hath
also a perpetual spur in himself to rescue and deliver
himself from scorn ; therefore, all deformed persons
are extreme bold ; first, as in their own defence, as
being exposed to scorn, but, in process of time, by a
general habit. Also, it stirreth in them industry,
and especially of this kind, to watch and observe the
weakness of others, that they may have somewhat to
repay. Again, in their superiors, it quencheth jeal-
ousy towards them, as persons that they think they
may at pleasure despise ; and it layeth their competi-
tors and emulators asleep, as never believing they
should be in possibility of advancement till they see
them in possession ; so that upon the matter, in a
great wit, deformity is an advantage to rising. Kings
in ancient times (and at this present in some coun-

1 Rom. i. 31; 2 Tim. iii. 3.
'3 '< Where she errs in the oue, she ventures in the other."

OF BUILDING. 243

tries) were wont to put great trust in eunuchs,
because they that are envious towards all are more
obnoxious and officious towards one ; but yet their
trust towards them hath rather been as to good
spials/ and good whisperers, than good magistrates
and officer's ; and much like is the reason of deformed
persons. Still the ground is, they will, if they be
of spirit, seek to free themselves fi'om scorn, which
must be either by virtue or malice ; and, therefore,
let it not be marvelled, if sometimes they prove ex-
cellent persons ; as was Agesilaiis, Zanger, the son
of Solyman,2 JEsop, Gasca president of Peni; and
Socrates may go likewise amongst them, with others.

XLV.— OF BUILDING.

Houses are built to live in, and not to look on,
therefore, let use be preferred before uniformity, ex-
cept where both may be had. Leave the goodly
fabrics of houses, for beauty only, to the enchanted
palaces of the poets, who build them with small
cost. He that builds a fair house upon an ill seat,^
committeth himself to prison ; neither do I reckon
it an ill seat only where the air is unwholesome, but
likewise where the air is unequal. As you shall
see many fine seats set upon a knap^ of ground

^ Spies. 3 Solynian the Magnificent, Sultan of the Turks.

8 Site. * KnoU.

244 ESSAYS.

environed with higher hills round about it, whereby
the heat of the sun is pent in, and the wind gatlier-
eth as in troughs ; so as you shall have, and that
suddenly, as great diversity of heat and cold as if
you dwelt in several places. Neither is it ill air
only that maketh an ill seat ; but ill ways, ill mar-
kets, and, if you will consult with Momus,^ ill neigh-
bors. I speak not of many more: want of water,
want of wood, shade, and shelter, want of fruitful-
ness, and mixture of grounds of several natures ;
want of prospect, want of level grounds, want of
places at some near distance for sports of limiting,
hawking, and races ; too near the sea, too remote ;
having the commodity of navigable rivers, or the
discommodity of their overflowing ; too far ofi* from
great cities, which may hinder business ; or too near
them, which lurcheth^ all provisions, and maketh
every thing dear ; where a man hath a great living
laid together, and where he is scanted ; all which, as
it is impossible perhaps to find together, so it is good
to know them, and think of them, that a man may
take as many as he can ; and if he have several
dwellings, that he sort them so, that what he wanl^
eth in the one he may find in the other. Lucul-
lus answered Pompey well, who, when he saw his
stately galleries and rooms so large and lightsome, in
one of his houses, said, " Surely, an excellent place

1 Have a liking for cheerful society. Momus being the god of
mirth.

•^ Eats up.

OF BUILDING. 245

for summer, but how do you do in winter ? " Lucul-
lus answered, " Why, do you not think me as wise
as some fowls are, that ever change their abode
towards the ^vinter ? " ^

To pass from the seat to the house itself, we will
do as Cicero doth in the orator's art, who writes
books De Oratoro, and a book he entitles Orator;
whereof the former delivers the precepts of the art,
and the latter the perfection. We will therefore
describe a princely palace, making a brief model
thereof; for it is strange to see, now in Europe,
such huge buildings as the Vatican and Escurial,^
and some others be, and yet scarce a very fair room
in them.

First, therefore, I say, you cannot have a perfect
palace, except you have two several sides; a side
for the banquet, as is spoken of in the book of Es-
ther,^ and a side for the household ; the one for
feasts and triumphs, and the other for dwelling. I
understand both these sides to be not only returns,
but parts of the front, and to be uniform without,
though severally partitioned within ; and to be on
both sides of a great and stately tower in the midst
of the front, that, as it were, joineth them together
on either hand. I would have, on the side of the

1 Plut. Vit. Lucull. 39.

^ A vast edifice, about twenty miles from Madrid, founded by
Philip II.

• Ksth. i. 5 ; "The King made a feast unto all the people that
were present in Shushan the palace, both unto great and small,
seven days, in the court of the garden of the king's palace."

246 ESSAYS.

banquet in front, one only goodly room above stairs,
of some forty foot high ; and under it a room for a
dressing or preparing place, at times of triumphs.
On the other side, which is the household side, I
wish it divided at the first into a hall and a chapel,
(with a partition between), both of good state and
bigness ; and those not to go all the length, but to
have at the further end a winter and a summer
parlor, both fair ; and under these rooms a fair and
large cellar sunk under ground; and likewise some
privy kitchens, with butteries, and pantries, and the
like. As for the tower, I would have it two stories,
of eighteen foot high apiece above the two wings ;
and a goodly leads upon the top, railed, with statues
interposed; and the same tower to be divided into
rooms, as shall be thought fit. The stairs likewise
to the upper rooms, let them be upon a fair open
newel,^ and finely railed in with images of wood
cast into a brass color, and a very fair landing-place
at the top. But this to be, if you do not point any
of the lower rooms for a dining-place of servants ;
for, otherwise, you shall have the servants' dinner
after your own ; for the steam of it will come up as
in a tunnel.^ And so much for the front; only I
understand the height of the first stairs to be sixteen
foot, which is the height of the lower room.

Beyond this front is there to be a fair court, but

1 The cylinder formed by the small end of the steps of winding
stairs.

* The funnel of a chimney.

OF BUILDING. 247

three sides of it of a far lower building than the front ;
and in all the four corners of that court fair stair-
cases, cast into turrets on the outside, and not within
the row of buildings themselves ; but those towers
are not to be of the height of the front, but rather
proportionable to the lower building. Let the court
not be paved, for that striketh up a great heat in
summer, and much cold in winter ; but only some
side alleys with a cross, and the quarters to graze,
being kept shorn, but not too near shorn. The
row of return on the banquet side, let it be all
stately galleries ; in which galleries let there be
three or five fine cupolas in the length of it, placed
at equal distance, and fine colored windows of
several works ; on the household side, chambers of
presence and ordinary entertainments, with some
bedchambers ; and let all three sides be a double
house, without thorough lights on the sides, that
you may have rooms from the sun, both for forenoon
and afternoon. Cast it, also, that you may have
rooms both for summer and winter ; shady for sum-
mer, and warm for winter. You shall have some-
times fair houses so full of glass, that one cannot
tell where to become ^ to be out of the sun or
cold. For imbowed^ windows, I hold them of
good use ; (in cities, indeed, upright ^ do better, in
respect of the uniformity towards the street;) for
they bo pretty retiring places for conference; and,

1 Where to go. 2 Bow, or bay, windows.

8 Flush with the wall

248 ESSAYS.

besides, they keep both the wind and sun off; for
that which would strike almost through the room
doth scarce pass the window : but let them be but
few, four in the court, on the sides only.

Beyond this court, let there be an inward court,
of the same square and height, which is to be envi-
roned with the garden on all sides ; and in the
inside, cloistered on all sides upon decent and
beautiful arches, as high as the first story; on tlie
under story towards the garden, let it be turned
to grotto, or place of shade, or estivation ; and only
have opening and windows towards the garden, and
be level upon the floor, no whit sunk under ground
to avoid all dampishness; and let there be a foun-
tain, or some fair work of statues in the midst of
this court, and to be paved as the other court was.
These buildings to be for privy lodgings on both
sides, and the end for privy galleries ; whereof you
must foresee that one of them be for an infirmary,
if the prince or any special person should be sick,
with chambers, bedchamber, " anticamera," ^ and
"recamera,"^ joining to it; this upon the second
story. Upon the ground story, a fair gallery, open,
upon pillars ; and upon the third story, likewise,
an open gallery upon pillars, to take the prospect
and freshness of the garden. At both corners of
the further side, by way of return, let there be
two delicate or rich cabinets, daintily paved, richly
hanged, glazed with crystalline glass, and a rich

1 Antechamber. " Withdrawing-room.

OF GARDENS. 249

cupola in the midst, and all other elegancy that can
be thought upon. In the upper gallery, too, I wish
that there may be, if the place will yield it, some
fountains running in divers places from the wall,
with some fine avoidances.^ And thus much for
the model of the palace, save that you must have,
before you come to the front, three courts : a green
court plain, with a wall about it ; a second court of
the same, but more garnished with little turrets, or
rather embellishments, upon the wall ; and a third
court, to make a square with the front, but not to be
built, nor yet inclosed with a naked wall, but in-
closed with terraces leaded aloft, and fairly gar-
nished on the three sides, and cloistered on the
inside with pillars, and not with arches below. As
for offices, let them stand at distance, with some low
galleries to pass from them to the palace itself.

Vyt,vt. _

XLVL — OF GARDENS.

God Almighty first planted a garden; and, in-
deed, it is the purest of human pleasures ; it is the
greatest refreshment to the spirits of man ; without
which buildings and palaces are but gross handy-
works ; and a man shall ever see, that, when ages
grow to civility and elegancy, men come to build
stately, sooner than to garden finely ; as if garden-

^ Watercourses.

250 ESSAYS.

ing were the greater perfection. I do hold it, in
the royal ordering of gardens, there ought to be
gardens for all the months in the year, in which,
^severally, things of beauty may be then in season.
For December, and January, and the latter part of
November, you must take such things as are green
all winter : holly, ivy, bays, juniper, cypress-trees,
yew, pineapple-trees ; ^ fir-trees, rosemary, lavender ;
periwinkle, the white, the purple, and the blue ;
germander, flags, orange-trees, lemon-trees, and myr-
tles, if they be stoved ; ^ and sweet marjoram, warm
set. There foUoweth, for the latter part of January
and February, the mezereon-tree, which then blossoms ;
crocus vemus, both the yellow and the gray ; prim-
roses, anemones, the early tulip, the hyacinthus
orieutalis, chamairis fritellaria. For March, there
come violets, especially the single blue, which are
the earliest ; the yellow daffodil, the daisy, the
almond-tree in blossom, the peach-tree in blossom,
the cornelian-tree in blossom, sweet-brier. In April,
follow the double white violet, the wall-flower, the
stock-gillyflower, the cowslip, flower-de-luces, and
lilies of all natures ; rosemary flowers, the tulip, the
double peony, the pale daffodil, the French honey-
suckle, the cherry-tree in blossom, the damascene^
and plum-trees in blossom, the white thorn in
leaf, the lilac-tree. In May and June come pinks
of all sorts, especially the blush-pink; roses of all

* Pine trees. ' Kept warm in a greenhouse.

' The damson, or plum of Damascus.

OF GARDENS. 251

kinds, except the musk, which comes later; honey-
suckles, strawberries, bugloss, columbine, the French
marigold, flos Africanus, cherry-tree in fruit, ribes,^
figs in fruit, rasps, vine-flowers, lavender in flowers,
the sweet satyrian, with the white flower; herba
muscaria, lilium convallium, the apple-tree in blos-
'som. In July come gillyflowers of all varieties,
musk-roses, the lime-tree in blossom, early pears, and
plums in fruit, genitings,^ codlins. In August come
plums of all sorts in fruit, pears, apricots, barberries,
filberts, musk-melons, monks-hoods, of all colors. In
September come grapes, apples, poppies of all colors,
peaches, melocotones,^ nectarines, cornelians,* war-
dens,^ quinces. In October, and the beginning of
November, come services, medlars, bullaces, roses cut
or removed to come late, hollyoaks, and such like.
These particulars are for the climate of London ;
but my meaning is perceived, that you may have
"ver perpetuum,"^ as the place affbrds.

And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter
in the air (where it comes and goes, like the war-
bling of music), than in the hand, therefore nothing
is more fit for that delight, than to know what be

^ Currants.

^ An apple that is gathered very early.

3 A kind of quince, so called from "cotoneum," or "cydonium,"
the Latin name of the quince.

* The fruit of the cornel-tree.

* The warden was a large pear, so called from its keeping welL
Warden-pie was formerly much esteemed in this country.

* Perpetual spring.

252 ESSAYS.

the flowers and plants that do best perfume the
air. Roses, damask and red, are fast flowers^ of
their smell, so that you may walk by a whole row
of them, and find nothing of their sweetness ; yea,
though it be in a morning's dew. Bays, likewise,
yield no smell as they grow, rosemary little, nor
'sweet marjoram ; that which, above all others, yields
the sweetest smell in the air, is the violet, especially
-the white double violet, which comes twice a year,
about the middle of April, and about Bartholomew-
tide. Next to that is the musk-rose ; then the
strawberry leaves dying, with a most excellent cor-
dial smell ; then the flower of the vines, it is a little
dust like the dust of a bent,^ which grows upon the
cluster in the first coming forth ; then sweet-brier,
then wall-flowers, which are very delightful to be
set under a parlor or lower chamber window ; then
pinks and gillyflowers, specially the matted pink and
clove gillyflower ; then the flowers of the lime-tree ;
then the honeysuckles, so they be somewhat afar
off". Of bean-flowers^ I speak not, because they
are field-flowers ; but those which perfume the air
most delightfully, not passed by as the rest, but
being trodden upon and crushed, are three ; that is,
burnet, wild thyme, and water-mints ; therefore you
are to set whole alleys of them, to have the pleasure
when you walk or tread.

1 Flowers that do not send forth their smell at any distance.

2 A species of grass of the genus argostis.
' The blossoms of the bean.

OF GAEDENS. 253

For gardens (speaking of those which are indeed
prince-like, as we have done of buildings), the con-
tents ought not well to be under thirty acres of
ground, and to be divided into three parts ; a green
in the entrance, a heath, or desert, in the going forth,
and the main garden in the midst, besides alleys on
both sides ; and I like well that four acres of ground
be assigned to the green, six to the heath, four and
four to either side, and twelve to the main garden.
The green hath two pleasures: the one, because
nothing is more pleasant to the eye than green
grass kept finely shorn ; the other, because it will
give you a fair alley in the midst, by which you
may go in front upon a stately hedge, which is to
inclose the garden. But because the alley will be
long, and in great heat of the year, or day, you
ought not to buy the shade in the garden by going
in the sun through the green ; therefore you are,
of either side the green, to plant a covert alley,
upon carpenter's work, about twelve foot in height,
by which you may go in shade into the garden.
As for the making of knots or figures, with divers
colored earths, that they may lie under the windows
of the house on that side which the garden stands,
they be but toys ; you may see as good sights many
times in tarts. The garden is best to be square,
encompassed on all the four sides with a stately
arched hedge : the arches to be upon pillars of car-
penter's work, of some ten foot high, and six foot
broad, and the spaces between of the same dimen-

254 ESSAYS.

sion with the breadth of the arch. Over the arclies
let there be an entire Iiedge of some four foot high,
framed also upon carpenter's work ; and upon the
upper hedge, over every arch a little turret, with a
belly enough to receive a cage of birds ; and over
every space between the arches some other little
figure, with broad plates of round colored glass gilt,
for the sun to play upon ; but this hedge I intend
to be raised upon a bank, not steep, but gently
slope, of some six foot, set all with flowers. Also,
I understand that this square of the garden should
not be the whole breadth of the ground, but to leave
on either side ground enough for diversity of side
alleys, unto which the two covert alleys of the green
may deliver you ; ^ but there must be no alleys with
hedges at either end of this great inclosure ; not at
the hither end, for letting ^ your prospect upon this
fair hedge from the green ; nor at the further end for
letting your prospect from the hedge through the
arches upon the heath.

For the ordering of the ground within the great
hedge, I leave it to variety of device; advising,
nevertheless, that whatsoever form you cast it into
first, it be not too bushy, or full of work ; wherein
I, for my part, do not like images cut out in juni-
per or other garden stuiF; they be for children.
Little low hedges, round like welts, with some
pretty pyramids, I like well ; and in some places
fair columns, upon frames of carpenter's work. I

^ Bring or lead you. ^ Impeding.

OF GARDENS. 255

would also have the alleys spacious and fair. You
may have closer alleys upon the side grounds, but
none in the main garden. I wish, also, in the very
middle, a fair mount, with three ascents and alleys,
enough for four to walk abreast; which I would
have to be perfect circles, without any bulwarks or
embossments ; and the whole mount to be thirty
foot high, and some fine banqueting-house, with some
chimneys neatly cast, and without too much glass.

For fountains, they are a great beauty and re-
freshment ; but pools mar all, and make the garden
unwholesome, and full of flies and frogs. Fountains
I intend to be of two natures; the one that sprin-
kleth or spouteth water ; the other, a fair receipt of
water, of some thirty or forty foot square, but with-
out fish, or slime, or mud. For the first, the orna-
ments of images, gilt or of marble, which are in
use, do well; but the main matter is so to convey
the water, as it never stay, either in the bowls or in
the cistern ; that the water be never by rest dis-
colored, green, or red, or the like, or gather any
mossiness or putrefaction; besides that, it is to be
cleansed every day by the hand ; also, some steps
up to it, and some fine pavement about it, doth well.
As for the other kind of fountain, which we may
call a bathing-pool, it may admit much curiosity
and beauty, wherewith we will not trouble our-
selves : as, that the bottom be finely paved, and
with images ; the sides likewise ; and, withal, em-
bellished with colored glass, and such things of

256 ESSAYS.

lustre ; encompassed, also, with fine rails of low
statues. But the main point is the same that we
mentioned in the former kind of fountain ; which
is, that tlie Avater be in perpetual motion, fed by a
water higher than the pool, and delivered into it by
fair spouts, and then discharged away under ground,
by some equality of bores, that it stay little ; and
for fine devices, of arching water ^ without spilling,
and making it rise in several forms (of feathers,
drinking-glasses, canopies, and the like), they be
pretty things to look on, but nothing to health and
sweetness.

For the heath, which was the third part of our
plot, I wish it to be framed as much as may be to
a natural wildness. Trees I would have none in it,
but some thickets made only of sweet-brier and
honeysuckle, and some wild vine amongst ; and the
ground set Avith violets, strawberries, and primroses ;
for these are sweet, and prosper in the shade, and
these to be in the heath here and there, not in any
order. I like also little heaps, in the nature of
molehills (such as are in wild heaths), to be set,
some with wild thyme, some with pinks, some with
germander, that gives a good flower to the eye ;
some with periwinkle, some with violets, some with
strawberries, some with cowslips, some with daisies,
some with red roses, some with lilium convallium,^

^ Causing the water to fall in a perfect arch, without any spray
escaping from the jet.
* Lilies of the valley.

OF GARDENS. 25?

some with sweet-williams red, some with bear's-
foot, and the like low flowers, being withal sweet
and sightly ; part of which heaps to be with stand-
ards of little bushes pricked upon their top, and
part without ; the standards to be roses, juniper,
holly, barberries (but here and there, because of
the smell of their blossom), red currants, gooseber-
ries, rosemary, bays, sweetbrier, and such like ; but
these standards to be kept with cutting, that they
grow not out of course.

For the side grounds, you are to fill them with
variety of alleys, private, to give a full shade ; some
of them wheresoever the sun be. You are to frame
some of them likewise for shelter, that when the
wind blows sharp, you may walk as in a gallery :
and those alleys must be likewise hedged at both
ends, to keep out the wind ; and these closer alleys
must be ever finely gravelled, and no grass, because
of going wet. In many of these alleys, likewise, you
are to set fruit-trees of all sorts, as well upon the
walls as in ranges ; ^ and this should be generally
observed, that the borders wherein you plant your
fruit-trees be fair, and large, and low, and not steep ;
and set with fine flowers, but thin and sparingly,
lest they deceive ^ the trees. At the end of both the
side grounds I would have a mount of some pretty
height, leaving the wall of the inclosure breast high,
to look abroad into the fields.

For the main garden, I do not deny but there

^ In rows. . * Insidiously subtract nourishment from.

258 ESSAYS.

should be some fair alleys ranged on both sides with
fruit-trees, and some pretty tufts of fruit-trees and
arbors with seats, set in some decent order ; but
these to be by no means set too thick, but to leave
the main garden so as it be not close, but the air
open and free. For as for shade, I would have you
rest upon the alleys of the side grounds, there to
walk, if you be disposed, in the heat of the year or
day ; but to make account ^ that the main garden is
for the more temperate parts of the year, and in the
heat of summer for the morning and the evening or
overcast days.

For aviaries, I like them not, except they be of
that largeness as they may be turfed, and have living
plants and bushes set in them ; that the birds may
have more scope and natural nestling, and that no
foulness appear in the floor of the aviary. So I
have made a platform of a princely garden, partly by
precept, partly by dra^ving ; not a model, but some
general lines of it ; and in this I have spared for no
cost. But it is nothing for great princes, that, for
the most part, taking advice with workmen, with no
less cost set their things together, and sometimes add
statues and such things for state and magnificence,
but nothing to the true pleasure of a garden.

1 To consider or expect.

OF NEGOTIATING. 259

XLVIL — OF NEGOTIATING.

It is generally better to deal by speech than by
letter; and by the mediation of a third, than by a
man's self. Letters are good, when a man would
draw an answer by letter back again ; or when it
may serve for a man's justification afterwards to
produce his own letter, or where it may be danger
to be interrupted or heard by pieces. To deal in
person is good, when a man's face breedeth regard,
as commonly with inferiors ; or in tender cases,
where a man's eye upon the countenance of him with
whom he speaketh, may give him a direction how far
to go ; and, generally, where a man will reserve to
himself liberty, either to disavow or to expound. In
choice of instruments, it is better to choose men of
a plainer sort, that are like to do that that is com-
mitted to them, and to report back again faithfully
the success, than those that are cunning to contrive
out of other men's business somewhat to grace them-
selves, and will help the matter in report, for satis-
faction sake. Use also such persons as affect ^ the
business wherein they are employed, for that quick-
eneth much ; and such as are fit for the matter,
as bold men for expostulation, fairspoken men for
persuasion, crafty men for inquiry and observation,
froward and absurd men for business that doth not

1 Love, are pleased with.

260 ESSAYS.

well bear out itself. Use also such as have been
lucky and prevailed before in things wherein you
have employed them ; for that breeds confidence,
and they will strive to maintain their prescription.
It is better to sound a person with whom one deals
afar off, than to fall upon the point at first, except
you mean to surprise him by some short question.
It is better dealing with men in appetite,^ than with
those that are where they would be. If a man deal
with another upon conditions, the start of first per-
formance is all ; which a man cannot reasonably
demand, except either the nature of the thing be
such, which must go before ; or else a man can per-
suade the other party, that he shall still need him in
some other thing; or else that he be counted the
honester man. All practice is to discover, or to
work. Men discover themselves in trust, in passion,
at unawares ; and, of necessity, when they would
have somewhat done, and cannot find an apt pretext.
If you would work any man, you must either know
his nature and fashions, and so lead him ; or his
ends, and so persuade him ; or his weakness and
disadvantages, and so awe him ; or those that have
interest in him, and so govern him. In dealing with
cunning persons, we must ever consider their ends,
to interpret their speeches ; and it is good to say
little to them, and that which they least look for.

^ It is more advantageous to deal with men whose desires are
not yet satisfied, than with those who have gained all they have
wished for, and are likely to be proof against inducements.

OF FOLLOWERS AND FRIENDS. 261

In all negotiations of difficulty, a man may not look
to sow and reap at once ; but must prepare business,
and so ripen it by degrees.

XLVIII. — OF FOLLOWERS AND FRIENDS.

Costly followers are not to be liked, lest, while
a man maketh his train longer, he make his wings
shorter. I reckon to be costly, not them alone
which charge the purse, but which are wearisome
and importune in suits. Ordinary followers ought
to challenge no higher conditions than countenance,
recommendation, and protection from wrongs. Fac-
tious followers are worse to be liked, which fol-
low not upon affection to him with whom they
range themselves, but upon discontentment con-
ceived against some other; whereupon commonly
ensueth that ill intelligence, that we many times see
between great personages. Likewise glorious^ fol-
lowers, who make themselves as trumpets of the
commendations of those they follow, are full of in-
convenience, for they taint business through want
of secrecy ; and they export honor from a man, and
make him a return in envy. There is a kind of fol-
lowers, likewise, which are dangerous, being indeed
espials ; which inquire the secrets of the house, and

^ In the sense of the Latin "gloriosus," "boastful," "brag-
ging-"

262 ESSAYS.

bear tales of them to others ; yet such men, many
times, are in great favor, for they are officious, and
commonly exchange tales. The following, by cer-
tain estates^ of men, answerable to that which a
great person himself professeth (as of soldiers to
him that hath been employed in the wars, and the
like), hath ever been a thing civil and well taken
even in monarchies, so it be without too much pomp
or popularity. But the most honorable kind of fol-
lowing, is to be followed as one that apprehendeth
to advance virtue and desert in all sorts of persons ;
and yet, where there is no eminent odds in suffi-
ciency, it is better to take with the more passable,
than with the more able ; and, besides, to speak
truth in base times, active men are of more use than
virtuous. It is true, that, in government, it is good
to use men of one rank equally ; for to countenance
some extraordinarily, is to make them insolent, and
the rest discontent, because they may claim a due :
but, contrariwise, in favor, to use men with much
difference and election is good: for it maketh the
persons preferred more thankful, and the rest more
officious, because all is of favor. It is good discre-
tion not to make too much of any man at the first,
because one cannot hold out that proportion. To be
governed, as we call it, by one, is not safe, for it
shows softness,^ and gives a freedom to scandal and
disreputation ; for those that would not censure, or

1 Professions or classes.

3 Weakness, or indecision of character.

OF FOLLOWERS AND FRIENDS. 263

speak ill of a man immediately, will talk more boldly
of those that are so great with them, and thereby
wound their honor ; yet to be distracted with many
is worse, for it makes men to be of the last impres-
sion, and full of change. To take advice of some
few friends is ever honorable ; for lookers-on many
times see more than gamesters, and the vale best
discovereth the hill. There is little friendship in the
world, and least of all between equals, which was
wont ^ to be magnified. That that is, is between
superior and inferior,^ whose fortunes may compre-
hend the one the other.

^ He probably alludes to the ancient stories of the friendship of
Orestes and Pylades, Theseus and Pirithous, Damon and Pythias,
and others, and tlie maxims of the ancient philosophers. Aristotle
considers that equality in circumstances and station is one requisite
of friendship. Seneca and Quintus Curtius express the same opin-
ion. It seems hardly probable that Lord Bacon reflected deeply
when he penned this passage, for between equals, jealousy, the
most insidious of all the enemies of friendship, has the least chance
o'' originating. Dr. Johnson says: " Friendship is seldom lasting
but between equals, or where the superiority on one side is reduced
by some equivalent advantage on the other. Benefits which cannot
be repaid, and obligations which cannot be discharged, are not
commonly found to increase affection; they excite gratitude indeed,
and heighten veneration, but commonly take away that easy free-
dom and familiarity of intercourse, without which, though there
may be fidelity, and zeal, and admiration, there cannot be friend-
ship." — The Rambler, No. 64.

2 In such a case, gratitude and admiration exist on the one hand,
esteem and confidence on the other.

264 ESSAYS.

XLIX. — OF SUITORS.

Many ill matters and projects are undertaken •
and private suits do putrefy the public good. Many
good matters are undertaken with bad minds ; I
mean not only corrupt minds, but crafty minds, that
intend not perfonnance. Some embrace suits, which
never mean to deal effectually in them ; but if they
see there may be life in the matter, by some other
mean they will be content to win a thank, or take a
second reward, or, at least, to make use, in the
mean time, of the suitor's hopes. Some take hold
of suits only for an occasion to cross some other,
or to make an information, whereof they could not
otherwise have apt pretext, without care what be-
come of the suit when that turn is served; or,
generally, to make other men's business a kind of
entertainment to bring in their own : nay, some
undertake suits with a full purpose to let them
fall, to the end to gratify the adverse party, or com-
petitor. Surely, there is in some sort a right in
every suit ; either a right of equity, if it be a suit
of controversy, or a right of desert, if it be a suit
of petition. If affection lead a man to favor the
wrong side in justice, let him rather use his coun-
tenance to compound the matter than to carry it.
If affection lead a man to favor the less worthy in
desert, let him do it without depraving ^ or disabling

^ Lowering, or humiliating.

OF SUITORS. 265

the better deserver. In suits which a man doth not
well understand, it is good to refer them to some
friend of trust and judgment, that may report whetlier
he may deal in them with honor ; but let him choose
well his referendaries,^ for else he may be led by
the nose. Suitors arc so distasted ^ with delays and
abuses, that plain dealing in denying to deal in suits
at first, and reporting the success barely,^ and in
challenging no more thanks than one hath deserved,
is grown not only honorable, but also gracious. In
suits of favor, the first coming ought to take little
place ;* so far forth ^ consideration may be had of
his trust, that if intelligence of the matter could
not otherwise have been had but by him, advantage
be not taken of the note,** but the party left to his
other means, and in some sort recompensed for his
discovery. To be ignorant of the value of a suit is
simplicity; as well as to be ignorant of the right
thereof, is want of conscience. Secrecy in suits is a
great mean of obtaining ; for voicing them to be in
forwardness may discourage some kind of suitors, but
doth quicken and awake others. But timing of the
suit is the principal ; timing, I say, not only in respect
of the person that should grant it, but in respect of
those which are like to cross it. Let a man, in the

^ Referees. 2 Disgusted.

8 Giving no false color to the degree of success which has at-
tended the prosecution of the suit.
♦ To have little effect.
' To this extent. • Of the information.

2G6 ESSAYS.

choice of his mean, rather choose the fittest mean,
than the greatest mean; and rather them that deal
in certain things, than those that are general. The
reparation of a denial is sometimes equal to the first
grant, if a man show himself neither dejected nor
discontented. "Iniquum petas, ut sequum feras,"^
is a good rule, where a man hath strength of favor ;
but otherwise a man were better rise in his suit;
for he that would have ventured at first to have
lost the suitor, will not, in the conclusion, lose both
the suitor and his own former favor. Nothing is
thought so easy a request to a great person as his
letter: and yet if it be not in a good cause, it is
so much out of his reputation. There are no worse
instruments than these general contrivers of suits ;
for they are but a kind of poison and infection to
public proceedings.

L. — OF STUDIES.2

Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for
ability. Their chief use for delight, is in private-
ness and retiring; for ornament, is in discourse;
and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition
of business; for expert men can execute, and per-

1 "Ask what is exorbitant, that you may obtain what is mod-
erate."

^ This fonned the first essay in the earliest edition of the work.

OF STUDIES. 267

haps judge of particulars one by one ; but the gen-
eral counsels, and the plots and marshalling of
affairs, come best from those that are learned. To
spend too much time in studies, is sloth ; to use
them too much for ornament, is affectation ; to make
judgment wholly by their rules, is the humor of a
scholar. They perfect nature, and are perfected
by experience; for natural abilities are like natural
plants, that need pruning by study ; and studies
themselves do give forth directions too much at
large, except they be bounded in by experience.
Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire
them, and wise men use them ; for they teach not
their own use ; but that is a wisdom without them
and above them, won by observation. Read not to^
contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for
granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh
and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others
to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and
digested; that is, some books are to be read only
in parts ; others to be read, but not curiously ; *
and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence
and attention. Some books also may be read by
deputy, and extracts made of them by others ; but
that would be only in the less important arguments
and the meaner sort of books ; else distilled books
are, like common distilled waters, flashy ^ things.
Reading maketh a full man ; conference a ready
man ; and writing an exact man ; and, therefore, if

1 Attentively. * Vapid ; without taste or spirit.

268 ESSAYS.

a man write little, he had need have a great memory;

if he confer little, he had need have a present wit ;

and if he read little, he had need have much cunning,

to seem to know that he doth not. Histories make

/men wise ; poets, witty ; the mathematics, subtile ;

/ natural philosophy, deep ; moral, grave ; logic and

\^ rhetoric, able to contend : " Abeunt studia in mores ; " ^

nay, there is no stand or impediment in the wit, but

may be wrought out by fit studies. Like as diseases

of the body may have appropriate exercises, bowling

is good for the stone and reins, shooting for the lungs

and breast, gentle walking for the stomach, riding

for the head and the like ; so, if a man's wit be

wandering, let him study the mathematics ; for in

demonstrations, if his wit be called away never so

little, he must begin again; if his wit be not apt

to distinguish or find dificrence, let him study the

schoolmen, for they are " Cymini sectores." ^ If he

be not apt to beat over matters, and to call up one

/ thing to prove and illustrate another, let him study

1 the lawyers' cases ; so every defect of the mind may

yiave a special receipt.

1 "Studies become habits."

2 "Splitters of cummin-seeds;" or, as we now say, "splitters
of straws," or "hairs." Butler says of Hudibras : —

"He could distinguish and divide
A hair 'twixt south and southwest side."

OF FACTION. 260

LI. — OF FACTION.

Many have an opinion not wise, that for a prince
to govern his estate, or for a great person to govern
his proceedings, according to the respect of factions,
is a principal part of policy ; whereas, contrariwise,
the chiefest wisdom is, either in ordering those
things which are general, and wherein men of sev-
eral factions do nevertheless agree, or in dealing
with correspondence to particular persons, one by
one; but I say not, that the consideration of fac-
tions is to be neglected. Mean men in their rising
must adhere ; but great men, that have strength in
tliemselves, were better to maintain themselves in-
different and neutral; yet, even in beginners, to
adhere so moderately, as he be a man of the one
faction, which is most passable with the other, com-
monly giveth best way. The lower and weaker
faction is the firmer in conjunction ; and it is often
seen, that a few that are stiff, do tire out a great
number that are more moderate. When one of the
factions is extinguished, the remaining subdivideth ;
as the faction between LucuUus and the rest of the
nobles of the senate (which they called "opti-
mates"), held out a while against the faction of
Pompey and Caesar; but when the senate's au-
thority was pulled down, Csesar and Pompey soon
after brake. The faction or party of Antonius and

270 ESSAYS.

Octavianus Csesar, against Brutus and Cassius, held
out like^Wse for a time ; but when Brutus and Cas-
sius were overthrown, then soon after Antonius
and Octavianus brake and subdivided. These ex-
amples are of wars, but the same holdeth in private
factions ; and, therefore, those that are seconds in fac-
tions do many times, when the faction subdivideth,
prove principals ; but many times also they prove
ciphers, and cashiered, for many a man's strength is
in opposition ; and when that faileth, he groweth
out of use. It is commonly seen, that men once
placed, take in with the contrary faction to that by
which they enter; thinking, belike, that they have
the first sure, and now are ready for a new pur-
chase. The traitor in faction lightly goeth away
with it; for when matters have stuck long in bal-
ancing, the winning of some one man casteth them,^
and he getteth all the thanks. The even carriage
between two factions proceedeth not always of mod-
eration, but of a trueness to a man's self, with end to
make use of both. Certainly, in Italy, they hold it a
little suspect in popes, when they have often in their
mouth, " Padre commune ; " ^ and take it to be a
sign of one that meaneth to refer all to the great-
ness of his own house. Kings had need beware
how they side themselves, and make themselves as
of a faction or party ; for leagues within the state
are ever pernicious to monarchies ; for they raise an
obligation paramount to obligation of sovereignty,

> Causes one side to preponderate. ' "The common father."

OF CEREMONIES AND RESPECTS. 271

and make the king "tanquara unus ex nobis," ^ as
was to be seen in the League of France. When
factions are carried too high and too violently, it is
a sign of weakness in princes, and much to the
prejudice both of their authority and business. The
motions of factions under kings, ought to be like the
motions (as the astronomers speak) of the inferior
orbs, which may have their proper motions, but yet
still are quietly carried by the higher motion of
" prinmm mobile." ^

LIL — OF CEREMONIES AND RESPECTS.

He that is only real, had need have exceeding
great parts of virtue ; as the stone had need to be
rich that is set without foil ; but if a man mark it
well, it is in praise and commendation of men, as
it is in gettings and gains ; for the proverb is true,
that " Light gains make heavy purses ; " for light
gains come thick, whereas great come but now and
then. So it is true, that small matters win great
commendation, because they are continually in use
and in note ; whereas the occasion of any great
virtue cometh but on festivals ; therefore it doth

1 " As one of us." Henry the Third of France, favoring the
league formed by the Duke of Guise and Cardinal Do Lon-aine
against the Protestants, soon found that, through the adoption
of that policy, he had forfeited the respect of his subjects.

* Soe a note to Essay 15.

272 ESSAYS.

much add to a man's reputation, and is (as Queen
Isabella ^ said) like perpetual letters commendatory,
to have good forms. To attain them, it almost
sufRceth not to despise them ; for so shall a man
observe them in others ; and let him trust himself
with the rest; for if he labor too much to express
them, he shall lose their grace, which is to be natu-
ral and unaffected. Some men's behavior is like a
verse, wherein every syllable is measured ; how can
a man comprehend great matters, that breaketh his
mind too much to small observations ? Not to use
ceremonies at all, is to teach others not to use them
again, and so diminisheth respect to himself; es-
pecially they be not to be omitted to strangers and
formal natures ; but the dwelling upon them, and
exalting them above the moon, is not only tedious,
but doth diminish the faith and credit of him that
speaks ; and, certainly, there is a kind of conveying
of effectual and imprinting passages amongst com-
pliments, which is of singular use, if a man can hit
upon it. Amongst a man's peers, a man shall be
sure of familiarity, and, therefore, it is good a little
to keep state ; amongst a man's inferiors, one shall
be sure of reverence, and therefore it is good a little
to be familiar. He that is too much in any thing,
so that he giveth another occasion of satiety, maketli
himself cheap. To apply one's self to others, is
good, so it be with demonstration that a man doth

1 Of Castile. She was the wife of Ferdinand of Arragon, and
was the patroness of Columbus.

OF PRAISE. 273

it upon regard, and not upon facility. It is a good
precept, generally in seconding another, yet to add
somewhat of one's own ; as, if you will grant his
opinion, let it be with some distinction ; if you will
follow his motion, let it be with condition ; if you
allow his counsel, let it be with alleging further rea-
son. IVIen had need beware how they be too perfect
in compliments ; for be they never so sufficient oth-
erwise, their enviers will be sure to give them that
attribute to the disadvantage of their greater vir-
tues. It is loss, also, in business, to be too full of
respects, or to be too curious in observing times and
opportunities. Solomon saith, "He that consider-
eth the wind shall not sow, and he that looketh to
the clouds shall not reap." ^ A wise man will make
more opportunities than he finds. Men's behavior
should be like their apparel, not too strait or point
device,^ but free for exercise or motion.

LIII. — OF PRAISE.

Praise is the reflection of virtue ; but it is glass,
or body, which giveth the reflection. If it be from
the common people, it is commonly false and naught,

^ The words in our version are : "He that observeth the wind
shall not sow, and he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap. —
Ecclesiastes xL 1.

2 Exact in the extreme. Point-de-vice was originally the
name of a kind of lace of very fine pattern.

274 ESSAYS.

and rather followeth vain persons than virtuous ; for
the common people understand not many excellent
virtues. The lowest virtues draw praise from them,
the middle virtues work in them astonishment or
admiration, but of the highest virtues they have no
sense or perceiving at all; but shows and "species
virtutibus similes," ^ serve best with them. Cer-
tainly, fame is like a river, that beareth up things
light and swollen, and drowns things weighty and
solid; but if persons of quality and judgment con-
cur, then it is (as the Scripture saith), "Nomen
bonum instar unguenti fragrantis : '' ^ it filleth all
round about, and will not easily away ; for the odors
of ointments are more durable than those of flowers.
There be so many false points of praise, that a man
may justly hold it a suspect. Some praises proceed
merely of flattery ; and if he be an ordinary flatterer,
he will have certain common attributes, which may
serve every man ; if he be a cunning flatterer, he
will follow the arch-flatterer, which is a man's self,
and wherein a man thinketh best of himself, therein
the flatterer will uphold him most. But if he be an
impudent flatterer, look wherein a man is conscious
to himself that he is most defective, and is most out
of countenance in himself, that will the flatterer entitle
him to, perforce, "spretdconscientifi,"^ Some praises

^ "Appearances resembling virtues."

^ "A good name is like sweet-smelling ointment." The words
in our version are, "A good name is better than precious ointment.
— JScclesiastes vii. 1.

* "Disregarding his ovon conscience."

OF PRAISE. 275

come of good mshes and respects, which is a form
due in civility to kings and great persons, " laudando
prsecipere ; " ^ when, by telling men what they are,
they represent to them what they should be ; some
men are praised maliciously to their hurt, thereby
to stir envy and jealousy towards them : " Pessi-
mum genus inimicorum laudantium ; " ^ insomuch
as it was a proverb amongst the Grecians, that
" he that was praised to his hurt, should have a
push ^ rise upon his nose ; " as we say that a blister
will rise upon one's tongue that tells a lie ; cer-
tainly, moderate praise, used with opportunity, and
not vulgar, is that which doth the good. Solomon
saith : " He that praiseth his friend aloud, rising
early, it shall be to him no better than a curse."*
Too much magnifying of man or matter doth irri-
tate contradiction, and procure envy and scorn.
To praise a man's self cannot be decent, except it
be in rare cases ; but to praise a man's office ^ or
profession, he may do it with good grace, and with
a kind of magnanimity. The cardinals of Rome,
which are theologues,^ and friars, and schoolmen,

^ "To instruct under the form of praise."

2 "The worst kind of enemies are those who flatter."

* A pimple filled with "pus,"or "purulent matter." The word
is still used in the east of England.

* The words in our version are : " He that blesseth his friend
with a loud voice, rising early in the morning, it shall be counted
a curse to him." — Proverbs xxvii. 14.

^ In other words, to show what we call an esprit de corps.
8 Theologians.

276 ESSAYS.

have a phrase of notable contempt and scorn towards
civil business ; for they call all temporal business of
wars, embassages, judicature, and other employments,
sbirrerie, which is under-sheriflfries, as if they were
but matters for under-sheriffs and catchpoles ; though
many times those under-sheriffries do more good than
their high speculations. St. Paul, when he boasts
of himself, he doth oft interlace, " I speak like a
fool : " ^ but speaking of his calling, he saith, " Mag-
nificabo apostolatum meum."'*

LIV. — OF VAINGLORY.

It was prettily devised of jEsop, the fly sat upon
the axle-tree of the chariot-wheel, and said, " What
a dust do I raise ! " So are there some vain persons,
that, whatsoever goeth alone, or moveth upon greater
means, if they have never so little hand in it, they
think it is they that carry it. They that are glorious,
must needs be factious ; for all bravery ^ stands upon
comparisons. They must needs be violent, to make
good their own vaunts ; neither can they be secret,
and therefore not effectual; but, according to the

1 2 Cor. xi. 23.

' " I will magnify my apostleship." He alludes to the words
in Romans xi. 13 : " Inasmuch as I am the apostle of the Gentiles,
I magnify mine oflSce."

• Vaunting, or boasting.

OF VAINGLORY. 277

French proverb, " Beaucoup de bruit, peu de fruit ; "
— " much bruit,^ little fruit." Yet, certainly, there
is use of this quality in civil affairs : where there is
an opinion ^ and fame to be created, either of virtue
or greatness, these men are good trumpeters. Again,
as Titus Livius noteth, in the case of Antiochus and
the yEtolians,^ there are sometimes great effects of
cross lies; as if a man that negotiates between two
princes, to draw them to join in a war against the
third, doth extol the forces of either of them above
measure, the one to the other; and sometimes he
that deals between man and man, raiseth his own
credit with both, by pretending greater interest than
he hath in either; and in these, and the like
kinds, it often falls out, that somewhat is produced
of nothing; for lies are sufficient to breed opinion,
and opinion brings on substance. In military com-
manders and soldiers, vainglory is an essential point ;
for as iron sharpens iron, so by glory one courage
sharpeneth another. In cases of great enterprise
upon charge* and adventure, a composition of glo-
rious natures doth put life into business ; and those
that are of solid and sober natures, have more of the
ballast than of the sail. In fame of learning, the
flight will be slow without some feathers of osten-
tation : " Qui de contemnend^ gloria libros scribunt,

* Noise. We have a corresponding proverb : *' Great cry and
little wool."

2 A high or good opinion. • Vide Liv. xxxvii. 48.

* By express command.

278 ESSAYS.

nomen suum inscribimt." ^ Socrates, Aristotle, Galen,
were men full of ostentation : certainly, vainglory
helpeth to perpetuate a man's memory ; and virtue
was never so beholden to human nature, as it received
its due at the second hand. Neither had the fame
of Cicero, Seneca, Plinius Secundus,^ borne her age
so well if it had not been joined with some vanity
in themselves ; like unto vaniish, that makes ceilings
not only shine, but last. But all this while, when I
speak of vainglory, I mean not of that property
that Tacitus doth attribute to Mucianus, " Omnium,
quse dixerat feceratque, arte quMam ostentator ; " ^
for that* proceeds not of vanity, but of natural
magnanimity and discretion ; and, in some persons,
is not only comely, but gracious; for excusations,^
cessions,^ modesty itself, well governed, are but arts
of ostentation ; and amongst those arts there is none
better than that which Plinius Secundus speaketh

1 "Those who write books on despising glory, set their names
in the title-page." He quotes from Cicero's "Tusculanse Dis-
putationes," b. i. c. 15, whose words are; "Quid nostii philoso-
phi ? Nonue in his libris ipsis, quos scribunt de contemnend&
glorid, sua nomina inscribunt." — "What do our philosophers do ?
Do they not, in those very books which they write on despising
glory, set their names in the title-page ? "

^ Pliny the Younger, the nephew of the elder Pliny, the natu-
ralist.

8 "One who set off every thing he said and did with a certain
skill." Mucianus was an intriguing general in the times of Otho
and Vitellius. — Hi<it. xi. 80.

* Namely, the property of which he was speaking, and not that
mentioned by Tacitus.

^ Apologies. • Concessions.

OF HONOR AND REPUTATION. 279

of, which is to be liberal of praise and commenda-
tion to others, in that wherein a man's self hath any
perfection. For, saith Pliny, very wittily, " In com-
mending another, you do yourself right ; " * for he
that you commend is either superior to you in that
you commend, or inferior : if he be inferior, if he be
to be commended, you much more ; if he be superior,
if he be not to be commended, you much less."
Glorious 2 men are the scorn of wise men, the
admiration of fools, the idols of parasites, and the
slaves of their own vaunts.

LV. — OF HONOR AND REPUTATION.

The winning of honor is but the revealing of a
man's virtue and worth without disadvantage ; for
some in their actions do woo and affect honor and
reputation ; which sort of men are commonly much
talked of, but inwardly little admired; and some,
contrariwise, darken their virtue in the show of it, so
as they be undervalued in opinion. If a man per-
form that which hath not been attempted before,
or attempted and given over, or hath been achieved,
but not with so good circumstance, he shall purchase
more honor than by affecting a matter of greater
difficulty or virtue, wherein he is but a follower.
If a man so temper his actions, as in some one of

1 Plin. Epist. vi. 17. * Boastful.

280 ESSAYS.

them he doth content every faction or combination
of people, the music will be the fuller. A man is
an ill husband of his honor that entereth into any
action, the failing wherein may disgrace him more
than the carrying of it through can honor him.
Honor that is gained and broken upon another
hath the quickest reflection, like diamonds cut with
facets ; and therefore let a man contend to excel any
competitors of his in honor, in outshooting them, if
he can, in their own bow. Discreet followers and
servants help much to reputation : " Omnis fama a
domesticis emanat." ^ Envy, which is the canker of
honor, is best extinguished by declaring a man's self
in his ends, rather to seek merit than fame ; and by
attributing a man's successes rather to Divine provi-
dence and felicity, than to his own virtue or policy.
The true marshalling of the degrees of sovereign
honor are these. In the first place are " condi-
tores imperiorum," ^ founders of states and common-
wealths ; such as were Romulus, Cyrus, Caesar, Otto-
man,2 Ismael: in the second place are " legislatores,"
lawgivers, which are also called second founders, or
" perpetui principes," * because they govern by their

^ " All fame emanates from servants," — Q. Cic. de Petit, Consul,
V. 17.

2 "Founders of empires."

8 He alludes to Ottoman, or Othman I., the founder of the
dynasty now reigning at Constantinople. From him, the Turkish
empire received the appellation of " Othoman," or "Ottoman"
Porte.

* "Perpetual rulers."

OF HONOR AND REPUTATION. 281

ordinances after they are gone ; such were Lycurgus,
Solon, Justinian, Edgar,^ Alphonsus of Castile, the
Wise, that made tlie " Siete Partidas : " ^ in the
third place are " liberatores," or " salvatores," ^ such
as compound the long miseries of civil wars, or
deliver their countries from servitude of strangers or
tyrants, as Augustus Caesar, Vespasianus, Aurelia-
nus, Theodoricus, King Henry the Seventh of Eng-
land, King Henry the Fourth of France: in the
fourth place are " propagatores," or " propugnatores
imperii,"* such as in honorable wars enlarge their
territories, or make noble defence against invaders :
and, in the last place are " patres patriae," ^ which
reign justly, and make the times good wherein they
live ; both which last kinds need no examples, they
are in such number. Degrees of honor in subjects
are, first, " participes curarum,"^ those upon whom

* Surnamed the Peaceful, who ascended the throne of England
A. D. 959. He was eminent as a legislator, and a rigid assertor
of justice. Hume considers his reign " one of the most fortunate
that we meet with in the ancient English history."

2 These were a general collection of the Spanish laws, made
by Alphonso X. of Castile, arranged under their proper titles.
The work was commenced by Don Ferdinand his father, to put
an end to the contradictory decisions in the Castilian courts of
justice. It was divided into seven parts, whence its name " Siete
Partidas." It did not, however, become the law of Castile till
nearly eighty years after.

8 " Deliverers," or "preservers."

* " Extenders," or " defenders of the empire."
6 " Fathers of their coimtry."

6 " Participators in cares."

282 ESSAYS.

princes do discharge the greatest weight of their
affairs, their right hands, as we call them ; the next
are " duces belli," ^ great leaders, such as are princes'
lieutenants, and do them notable services in the
wars ; the third are " gratiosi," favorites, such as
exceed not this scantling,^ to be solace to the sove-
reign, and harmless to the people; and the fourth,
" negotiis pares," ^ such as have great places under
princes, and execute their places with sufficiency.
There is an honor, likewise, which may be ranked
amongst the greatest, which happen eth rarely ; that
is, of such as sacrifice themselves to death or danger
for the good of their countiy ; as was M. Regulus,
and the two Decii.

LVL — OF JUDICATURE.

Judges ought to remember that their office is
"jus dicere,"^ and not "jus dare;"^ to interpret
law, and not to make law, or give law ; else will it
be like the authority claimed by the Church of
Rome, which, under pretext of exposition of Scrip-
ture, doth not stick to add and alter, and to pro-
nounce that which they do not find, and, by show
of antiquity, to introduce novelty. Judges ought to

1 " Leaders in war." 2 Proportion, dimensions.

3 ♦' Equal to their duties." " " To expound the law."

' " To make the law. "

OF JUDICATURE. 283

be more learned than witty, more reverend than
plausible, and more advised than confident. Above
all things, integrity is their portion and proper
virtue. " Cursed (saith the law) ^ is he that remov-
eth the landmark." The mislayer of a mere stone
is to blame ; but it is the unjust judge that is the
capital remover of landmarks, when he defineth
amiss of lands and property. One foul sentence
doth more hurt than many foul examples ; for
these do but corrupt the stream, the other corrupt-
eth the fountain : so saith Solomon, " Fons turba-
tus et vena corrupta est Justus cadens in caus^ su^
coram adversario." ^ The office of judges may have
reference unto the parties that sue, unto the advo-
cates that plead, unto the clerks and ministers of
justice underneath them, and to the sovereign or
state above them.

First, for the causes or parties that sue. " There
be (saith the Scripture) that turn judgment into
wormwood ; " ^ and surely there be, also, that turn
it into vinegar ; for injustice maketh it bitter, and
delays make it sour. The principal duty of a judge
is to suppress force and fraud ; whereof force is the
more pernicious when it is open, and fraud when it

1 The Mosaic law. He alludes to Deuteronomy xxvii. 17.
" Cursed be he that removeth his neighbor's landmark."

* " A righteous man falling down before the wicked is as a
troubled fountain and a corrupt spring." — Proverbs xxv. 26.

' "Ye who turn judgment to wormwood, and leave off righteou8«
ness in the earth." — Amos v. 7

284 ESSAYS.

is close and disguised. Add thereto contentious
suits, which ought to be spewed out, as the surfeit
of courts. A judge ought to prepare his way to a
just sentence, as God useth to prepare his way, by
raising valleys and taking down hills ; so when there
appeareth on either side a high hand, violent pro-
secution, cunning advantages taken, combination,
power, great counsel, then is the virtue of a judge
seen to make inequality equal, that he may plant
his judgment as upon an even ground. " Qui for-
titer emungit, elicit sanguinem ; " ^ and where the
wdne-press is hard wrought, it yields a harsh wine,
that tastes of the grape-stone. Judges must beware
of hard constructions and strained inferences ; for
there is no worse torture than the torture of laws.
Especially in case of laws penal, they ought to have
care that that which was meant for terror be not
turned into rigor ; and that they bring not upon the
people that shower whereof the Scripture speaketh,
" Pluet super eos laqueos ; " ^ for penal laws pressed,^
are a shower of snares upon the people. Therefore
let penal laws, if they have been sleepers of long, or
if they be grown unfit for the present time, be by

^ " He who wrings the nose strongly brings blood," Proverbs
XXX. 33: "Surely, the eliurning of milk bringeth forth butter, and
the wringing of the nose bringeth forth blood; so the forcing of
wrath bringeth forth strife."

2 ♦' He will rain snares upon them." Psalm xi. 6: "Upon the
wicked he shall rain snares, fire, and brimstone, and an horrible
tempest."

• Strained.

OF JUDICATURE. 285

wise judges confined in the execution: "Judicis
officium est, ut res, ita tempora rerum," &c.^ In
causes of life and death, judges ought (as far as the
law permitteth) in justice to remember mercy, and
to cast a severe eye upon the example, but a merci-
ful eye upon the person.

Secondly, for the advocates and counsel that plead.
Patience ^ and gravity of hearing is an essential part
of justice, and an overspeakiug judge is no well-
tuned cymbal. It is no grace to a judge first to
find that which he might have heard in due time
from the bar; or to show quickness of conceit in
cutting off evidence or counsel too short, or to pre-
vent information by questions, though pertinent.
Tiie parts of a judge in hearing are four : to direct
the evidence ; to moderate length, repetition, or
impertinency of speech ; to recapitulate, select, and
collate the material points of that which hath been
said ; and to give the rule or sentence. Whatsoever
is above these is too much, and proceedeth either of
glory, and willingness to speak, or of impatience to
hear, or of shortness of memory, or of want of a
staid and equal attention. It is a strange thing to
see that the boldness of advocates should prevail
with judges ; whereas, they should imitate God in
whose seat they sit, who represseth the presump-

1 " It is the duty of a judge to consider not only the facts, but
the circumstances of the case." — Ovid. Trist. I. i. 37.

'■' Pliny the Younger, Ep. B. 6, E. 2, has the observation:
** Patientiam . . . quse pars magna justitiae est;" "Patience,
which is a great part of justice."

286 ESSAYS.

tuous, and giveth grace to the modest ; but it is more
strange, that judges should have noted favorites,
which cannot but cause multiplication of fees, and
suspicion of by-ways. There is due from the judge
to the advocate some commendation and gracing,
where causes are well handled and fair pleaded,
especially towards the side which obtaineth not ; ^
for that upholds in the client the reputation of his
counsel, and beats down in him the conceit'^ of his
cause. There is likewise due to the public a civil
reprehension of advocates, where there appeareth
cunning counsel, gross neglect, slight information,
indiscreet pressing, or an over-bold defence ; and
let not the counsel at the bar chop ^ with the judge,
nor wind himself into the handling of the cause
anew after the judge hath declared his sentence;
but, on the other side, let not the judge meet the
cause half-way, nor give occasion to the party to say,
his counsel or proofs were not heard.

Thirdly, for that that concerns clerks and minis-
ters- The place of justice is a hallowed place ; and,
therefore, not only the bench, but the foot-pace
and precincts, and purprise thereof, ought to be
preserved without scandal and corruption ; for, cer-
tainly, "Grapes (as the Scripture saith) will not be
gathered of thorns or thistles ; " * neither can justice

^ Is not successful.

2 Makes him to feel less confident of the goodness of his cause.
8 Altercate, or bandy words with the judge.
* • ' Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles ! " — 8L
Maithew vii. 16.

OF JUDICATURE. 287

yield her fruit with sweetness amongst the briers
and brambles of catching and polling^ clerks and
ministers. The attendance of courts is subject to
four bad instruments : first, certain persons that are
sowers of suits, which make the court swell, and the
country pine : the second sort is of those that engage
courts in quarrels of jurisdiction, and are not truly
"amici curiae,"^ but "parasiti curiae,"^ in puffing a
court up beyond her bounds for their own scraps
and advantage : the third sort is of those that may
be accounted the left hands of courts ; persons that
are full of nimble and sinister tricks and shifts,
whereby they pervert the plain and direct courses
of courts, and bring justice into oblique lines and
labyrinths : and the fourth is the poller and exacter
of fees ; which justifies the common resemblance of
the courts of justice to the bush, whereunto while
the sheep flies for defence in weather, he is sure
to lose part of his fleece. On the other side, an
ancient clerk, skilful in precedents, wary in pro-
ceeding, and understanding in the business of the
court, is an excellent finger of a court, and doth
many times point the way to the judge himself.

Fourthly, for that which may concern the sover-
eign and estate. Judges ought, above all, to re-
member the conclusion of the Roman Twelve Ta-
bles,^ " Salus populi suprema lex ; " ^ and to know

1 Plundering. 2 " Friends of the court."

• "Parasites," or "flatterers of the court."

• Which were compiled hy the deteravirs.

6 " The safety of the people is the supreme law."

288 ESSAYS.

that laws, except they be in order to that end, are
but things captious, and oracles not well inspired;
therefore it is a happy thing in a state, when kings
and states do often consult with judges ; and again,
when judges do often consult with the king and
state : the one, when there is matter of law iuter-
venient in business of state; the other, when there
is some consideration of state intervenient in matter
of law ; for many times the things deduced to judg-
ment may be "meum'^ and "tuum,"^ when the
reason and consequence thereof may trench to point
of estate. I call matter of estate, not only the parts
of sovereignty, but whatsoever introduceth any great
alteration, or dangerous precedent, or concerneth
manifestly any great portion of people ; and let no
man weakly conceive, that just laws and true policy
have any antipathy, for they are like the spirits and
sinews, that one moves with the other. Let judges
also remember, that Solomon's throne was supported
by lions ^ on both sides ; let them be lions, but yet
lions under the throne, being circumspect that they
do not check or oppose any points of sovereignty.
Let not judges also be so ignorant of their own right,
as to think there is not left to them, as a principal

1 "Mine."

2 "Yours,"

8 He alludes to 1 Kings x. 19, 30 : "The throne had six steps,
and the top of the throne was round behind ; and there were stays
on either side on the place of the seat, and two lions stood beside
the stays. And twelve lions stood there on the one side and on the
other upon the six steps." The same verses are repeated in 1
Chronicles ix. 18, 19.

OF ANGER. 289

part of their office, a wise use and application of
laws ; for they may remember what the apostle saith
of a greater law than theirs : " Nos scimus quia lex
bona est, modo quis e^ utatur legitime." ^

LVIL — OF ANGER.

To seek to extinguish anger utterly is but a
bravery 2 of the Stoics. We have better oracles:
"Be angry, but sin not; let not the sun go down
upon your anger." ^ Anger must be limited and
confined, both in race and in time. We will first
speak how the natural inclination and habit, "to'
be angry," may be attempered and calmed ; secondly,
how the particular motions of anger may be repressed,
or, at least, refrained from doing mischief; thirdly,
how to raise anger, or appease anger in another.

For the first, there is no other way but to medi-
tate and ruminate well upon the effects of anger,
how it troubles man's life ; and the best time to do
this is, to look back upon anger when the fit is
thoroughly over. Seneca saith well, "that anger
is like ruin, which breaks itself upon that it falls." *

1 " We know that the law is good, if a man use it lawfully." —
1 Timothy i. 8.
a A boast.

• In our version it is thus rendered : •' Be ye angry, and sin not ;
let not the sun go down upon your wrath." — Epfiesians iv. 26.

* Sen. De Ira i. 1.

290 ESSAYS.

The Scripture exhorteth us " to possess our souls in
patience;"^ whosoever is out of patience, is out oi
possession of his soul. Men must not turn bees : —

" animasque in vulnere ponunt." '

Anger is certainly a kind of baseness ; as it appears
well in the weakness of those subjects in whom it
reigns, children, women, old folks, sick folks. Only
men must beware that they carry their anger rather
with scorn than with fear ; so that they may seem
rather to be above the injury than below it ; which
is a thing easily done, if a man will give law to
himself in it.

For the second point, the causes and motives of
anger are chiefly three. First, to be too sensible of

o — - — -- „r. y '

hurt, for no man is angry that feels not himself hurt ;
and therefore tender and delicate persons must needs
be oft angry, they have so many things to trouble
them, which more robust natures have little sense
of: the next is, the apprehension and construction
of the injury offered, to be, in the circumstances
thereof, full of contempt ; for contempt is that which
putteth an edge upon anger, as much, or more, than
the hurt itself ; and therefore, when men are ingen-
ious in picking out circumstances of contempt, they
do kindle their anger much : lastly, opinion of the
touch ^ of a man's reputation doth multiply and

^ " In your patience possess ye your souls." — Luke xvi. 19.
' "And leave their lives in the wound." The quotation is from
Virgil's Georgics, iv. 238.
' Susceptibility upon.

OF ANGER. 291

sharpen anger ; wherein the remedy is, that a man
should have, as Gonsalvo was wont to say, " Telam
honoris crassiorem." * But in all refrainings of
anger, it is the best remedy to win time, and to
make a man's self believe that the opportunity of
his revenge is not yet come ; but that he foresees
a time for it, and so to still himself in the mean
time, and reserve it.

To contain anger from mischief, though it take
hold of a man, there be two things whereof you
must have special caution : the one, of extreme bit-
terness of words, especially if they be aculeate and
proper,^ for " communia maledicta " ^ are nothing so
much; and, again, that in anger a man reveal no
secrets, for that makes him not fit for society : the
other, that you do not peremptorily break oif in any
business in a fit of anger ; but, howsoever you show
bitterness, do not act any thing that is not re-
vocable.

For raising and appeasing anger in another, it is
done chiefly by choosing of times when men are
frowardest and worst disposed to incense them;
again, by gathering (as was touched before) all that
you can find out to aggravate the contempt: and
the two remedies are by the contraries ; the former
to take good times, when first to relate to a man an
angry business, for the first impression is much ;

^ "A thicker covering for Ms honor."

2 Pointed and peculiarly appropriate to the party attackedt

• ' ' Ordinary abuse. "

292 ESSAYS.

and the other is, to sever, as much as may be,
the construction of the injury from the point of
contempt ; imputing it to misunderstanding, fear,
passion, or what you will.

LVIIL — OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS.

Solomon saith, " There is no new thing upon
the earth ; " ^ so that as Plato ^ had an imagination
that all knowledge was but remembrance, so Solo-
mon giveth his sentence, "That all novelty is but
oblivion ; " ^ whereby you may see, that the river of
Lethe runneth as well above ground as below.
There is an abstruse astrologer that saith, if it were
not for two things that are constant (the one is,
that the fixed stars ever stand at like distance one
from another, and never come nearer together, nor
go further asunder ; the other, that the diurnal
motion perpetually keepeth time), no individual
would last one moment ; certain it is, that the mat-
ter is in a perpetual flux, and never at a stay. The

1 " The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be ; and that
which is done, is that which shall be done ; and there is no new
thing under the sun. Is there any thing whereof it may be said,
See, this is new ? It hath been already of old time, which was
before us." — Ecclesiastes i. 9, 10.

2 In his Phaedo.

* " There is no remembrance of former things : neither shall
there be any remembrance of things that are to come, with those
that shall come hereafter." — Ecclesiastes i. 11.

OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS. 293

great winding-sheets that bury all things in obliv-
ion, are two, — deluges and earthquakes. As for
conflagrations and great droughts, they do not
merely dispeople, but destroy. Phaeton's car went
but a day ; and the three years' drought in the time
of Elias,^ was but particular,^ and left people alive.
As for the great burnings by lightnings, which are
often in the West Indies,^ they are but narrow ; *
but in the other two destructions, by deluge and
earthquake, it is further to be noted, that the rem-
nant of people which happen to be reserved, are
commonly ignorant and mountainous people, that
can give no account of the time past; so that the
oblivion is all one, as if none had been left. If
you consider well of the people of the West Indies,
it is very probable that they are a newer, or a
younger people than the people of the old world;
and it is much more likely that the destruction that
hath heretofore been there, was not by earthquakes,
(as the Egyptian priest told Solon, concerning the

1 " And Elijah the Tishbite, who was of the inhabitants of
Gilead, said unto Ahab, As the Lord God of Israel liveth, before
whom I stand, there shall not be dew nor rain these years, but
according to my word." — 1 Kings xvii. 1. " And it came to pass
after many days, that the word of the Lord came to Elijah in the
third year, saying, Go, show thyself unto Ahab ; and I will send
rain upon the earth." — 1 Kings xviiL 1.

* Confined to a limited space,

* The whole of the continent of America then discovered is
included under this name.

* Limited.

294 ESSAYS.

Island of Atlantis.^ that it was swallowed by an
earthquake), but rather that it was desolated by a
particular deluge, for earthquakes are seldom in
those parts ; but, on the other side, they have such
pouring rivers, as the rivers of Asia, and Africa,
and Europe, are but brooks to them. Their Andes,
likewise, or mountains, are far higher than those
with us ; whereby it seems, that the remnants of
generations of men were in such a particular deluge
saved. As for the observation that Machiavel hath,
that the jealousy of sects doth nmch extinguish
the memory of things,^ traducing Gregory the Great,
that he did what in him lay to extinguish all
heathen antiquities, I do not find that those zeals
do any great effects, nor last long ; as it appeared
in the succession of Sabinian,^ who did revive the
former antiquities.

The vicissitude, or mutations, in the superior
globe, are no fit matter for this present argument.
It may be, Plato's great year,* if the world should
last so long, would have some effect, not in renew-

1 Vide Plat. Tim. iii. 24, seq.

* Mach. Disc. Sop. Li v. ii. 2.

' Sabinianua of Volaterra was elected Bishop of Rome on the
death of Gregory the Great, A. D. 604. He was of an avaricious
disposition, and thereby incurred the popular hatred. He died
in eighteen months after his election.

♦ This Cicero speaks of as "the great year of the mathema-
ticians." "On the Nature of the Gods," B. 4, ch. 20. By some
it was supjjosed to occur after a period of 12,954 years, while,
iccording to others, it was of 25,920 years' duration. — Flat. Tim.
iii. 38, seq.

OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS. 295

ing the state of like individuals (for that is the
fume * of those that conceive the celestial bodies
have more accurate influences upon these things
below, than indeed they have), but in gross. Com-
ets, out of question, have likewise power and eflFect
over the gross and mass of things ; but they are
rather gazed, and waited upon^ in their journey,
than wisely observed in their effects, especially in
their respective effects ; that is, what kind of comet
for magnitude, color, version of the beams, placing
in the region of heaven, or lasting, produceth what
kind of effects.

There is a toy,^ which I have heard, and I would
not have it given over, but waited upon a little.
They say it is observed in the Low Countries (I
know not in what part), that every five and thirty
years the same kind and suit of years and weather
comes about again ; as great frosts, great wet, great
droughts, warm winters, summers with little heat,
and the like ; and they call it the prime. It is a
thing I do the rather mention, because, computing
backwards, I have found some concurrence.

But to leave these points of nature, and to come
to men. The greatest vicissitude of things amongst
men, is the vicissitude of sects and religions ; for
those orbs rule in men's minds most. The true
religion is built upon the rock ; the rest are tossed
upon the waves of time. To speak, therefore, of

* Conceit. a Observed.

* A curious faucy or odd conceit.

296 ESSAYS.

the causes of new sects, and to give some counsel
concerning them, as far as the weakness of human
judgment can give stay to so great revolutions.

When the religion formerly received is rent by
discords, and when the holiness of the professors of
religion is decayed and full of scandal, and, withal,
the times be stupid, ignorant, and barbarous, you
may doubt the springing up of a new sect ; if then,
also, there should arise any extravagant and strange
spirit to make himself author thereof; all which
points held when Mahomet published his law. If a
new sect have not two properties, fear it not, for it
will not spread. The one is the supplanting or the
opposing of authority established, for nothing is more
popular than that ; the other is, the giving license
to pleasures and a voluptuous life ; for as for
speculative heresies (such as were in ancient times
the Arians, and now the Arminians),^ though they
work mightily upon men's wits, yet they do not
produce any great alterations in states, except it be
by the help of civil occasions. There be three
manner of plantations of new sects: by the power
of signs and miracles ; by the eloquence and wisdom
of speech and persuasion ; and by the sword. For
martyrdoms, I reckon them amongst miracles, be-
cause they seem to exceed the strength of human

' The followers of Arminins, or James Hannensen, a celebrated
divine of the 16th and 17th centuries. Though called a heresy by
Bacon, his opinions have been for two centuries, and Btill are, held
by a large portion of the Church of England,

OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS. 297

nature ; and I may do the like of superlative and
admirable holiness of life. Surely, there is no better
way to stop the rising of new sects and schisms,
than to reform abuses ; to compound the smaller
differences ; to proceed mildly, and not with sangui-
nary persecutions ; and rather to take off the prin-
cipal authors, by winning and advancing them, than
to enrage them by violence and bitterness.

The changes and vicissitude in wars are many,
but chiefly in three things : in the seats or stages of
the war, in the weapons, and in the manner of the
conduct. Wars, in ancient time, seemed more to
move from east to west ; for the Persians, Assyrians,
Arabians, Tartars (which were the invaders), were
all eastern people. It is true the Gauls were
western ; but we read but of two incursions of
theirs, the one to Gallo-Grsecia, the other to Rome :
but east and west have no certain points of heaven ;
and no more have the wars, either from the east or
west, any certainty of observation ; but north and
south are fixed; and it hath seldom or never been
seen that the far southern people have invaded the
northern, but contrariwise : whereby it is manifest
that the northern tract of the world is in nature
the more martial region, be it in respect of the stars
of that hemisphere,^ or of the great continents that
are upon the north; whereas, the south part, for
aught that is known, is almost all sea; or (which

• A belief in astrology, or at least the influence of the stars was
almost universal in the time of Bacon.

298 ESSAYS.

is most apparent) of the cold of the northern parts,
which is that which, without aid of discipline, doth
make the bodies hardest, and the courage warmest.
Upon the breaking and shivering of a great state
and empire, you may be sure to have wars ; for
great empires, while they stand, do enervate and
destroy the forces of the natives which they have
subdued, resting upon their own protecting forces ;
and then, when they fail also, all goes to ruin, and
they become a prey. So was it in the decay of the
Roman empire, and likewise in the empire of Al-
maigne,^ after Charles the Great,^ every bird taking
a feather, and were not unlike to befall to Spain, if
it should break. The great accessions and unions
of kingdoms do likewise stir up wars ; for when a
state grows to an over-power, it is like a great flood,
that will be sure to overflow, as it hath been seen
in the states of Rome, Turkey, Spain, and others.
Look when the world hath fewest barbarous people,
but such as commonly will not marry or generate,
except they know means to live (as it is almost
everywhere at this day, except Tartary), there is no
danger of inundations of people ; but wlien there be
great shoals of people, which go on to populate,
without foreseeing means of life and sustenation,
it is of necessity that once in an age or two they
discharge a portion of their people upon other na-
tions, which the ancient northern people were wont
to do by lot ; casting lots what part should stay at

^ Germauy. " Charlemagne.

OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS. 299

home, and what should seek their fortunes. When
a warlike state grows soft and effeminate, they may
be sure of a war, for commonly such states are grown
rich in the time of their degenerating; and so the
prey inviteth, and their decay in valor encourageth
a war.

As for the weapons, it hardly falleth under rule
and observation, yet we see even they have returns
and vicissitudes ; for certain it is that ordnance was
known in the city of the Oxidraces, in India, and
was that which the Macedonians^ called thunder
and lightning, and magic ; and it is well known
that the use of ordnance hath been in China above
two thousand years. The conditions of weapons,
and their improvements are, first, the fetching^ afar
off, for that outruns the danger, as it is seen in
ordnance and muskets ; secondly, the strength of
the percussion, wherein, likewise, ordnance do ex-
ceed all arictations,^ and ancient inventions; the
third is, the commodious use of them, as that they
may serve in all weathers, that the carriage may be
light and manageable, and the like.

For the conduct of the war: at the first, men
rested extremely upon number; they did put the
wars likewise upon main force and valor, pointing
days for pitched fields, and so trying it out upon
an even match; and they were more ignorant in

1 When led thither by Alexander the Great.

2 Striking.

8 Application of the "aries," or battering-ram.

300 ESSAYS.

ranging and arraying their battles. After they
grew to rest upon number, rather competent than
vast, they grew to advantages of place, cunning
diversions, and the like, and they grew more skilful
in the ordering of their battles.

In the youth of a state, arms do flourish ; in the
middle age of a state, learning; and then both of
them together for a time ; in the declining age of a
state, mechanical arts and merchandise. Learning
hath its infancy when it is but beginning, and
almost childish ; then its youth, when it is luxuriant
and juvenile ; then its strength of years, when it is
solid and reduced ; and, lastly, its old age, when it
waxeth dry and exhaust. But it is not good to look
too long upon these turning wheels of vicissitude,
lest we become giddy ; as for the philology of chem,
that is but a circle of tales, and therefore not fit for
this writing.

APPENDIX TO ESSAYS.

I. — A FRAGMENT OF AN ESSAY OF FAME.*

The poets make fame a monster; they describe
her in part finely and elegantly, and in part gravely
and sententiously ; they say, Look, how many feath-
ers she hath, so many eyes she hath underneath, so
many tongues, so many voices, she pricks up so

many ears

This is a flourish : there follow excellent parables ;
as that she gathereth strength in going; that she
goeth upon the ground, and yet hideth her head in
the clouds; that in the daytime she sitteth in a
watch-tower, and flieth most by night; that she
mingleth things done with things not done ; and that
she is a terror to great cities ; but that which pass^
eth all the rest is, they do recount that the Earth,
mother of the giants that made war against Jupiter,
and were by him destroyed, thereupon in anger
brought forth Fame ; for certain it is, that rebels,
figured by the giants, and seditious fames and libels,

1 This fragment was found among Lord Bacon's papers, and
published by Dr. Rawley in his Resuscitatio.

302 ESSAYS.

are but brothers and sisters, masculine and feminine.
But now, if a man can tame this monster, and bring
her to feed at the hand and govern her, and with
her fly other ravening fowl, and kill them, it is some-
what worth; but we are infected with the style of
the poets. To speak now in a sad and serious
manner, there is not in all the politics a place less
handled, and more worthy to be handled, than this
of fame. We will, therefore, speak of these points.
What are false fames, and what are true fames,
and how they may be best discerned; how fames
may be sown and raised ; how they may be spread
and multiplied ; and how they may be checked and
lay dead; and other things concerning the nature
of fame. Fame is of that force, as theni is scarcely
any great action wherein it hath not a great part,
especially in the war. Mucianus undid Vitellius by
a fame that he scattered, that Vitellius had in pur-
pose to remove the legions of Syria into Germany,
and the legions of Germany into Syria; whereupon
the legions of Syria were infinitely inflamed.^ Julius
Csesar took Pompey unprovided, and laid asleep his
industry and preparations by a fame that he cun-
ningly gave out, how Caesar's own soldiers loved him
not ; and being wearied with the wars, and laden
with the spoils of Gaul, would forsake him as soon
as he came into Italy.^ Livia settled all things for
the succession of her son Tiberius, by continually
giving out that her husband Augustus was upon

1 Tac. Hist, ii. 80. « Gibs, de Bell. Civ. 1. 6.

OF A KING. 303

recovery and amendment;^ and it is a usual thing
with the bashaws to conceal the death of the Grand
Turk from the janizaries and men of war, to save the
sacking of Constantinople, and other towns, as their
manner is. Themistocles made Xerxes, king of
Persia, post apace out of Grsecia, by giving out that
the Grecians had a purpose to break his bridge of
ships which he had made athwart Hellespont.*
There be a thousand such like examples, and the
more they are, the less they need to be repeated, be-
cause a man meeteth with them everywhere ; there-
fore, let all wise governors have as great a watch
and care over fames, as they have of the actions and
designs themselves.

II. — OF A KING.

1. A KING is a mortal God on earth, unto whom
the living God hath lent his own name as a great
honor; but withal told him, he should die like a
man, lest he should be proud and flatter himself,
that God hath, with his name, imparted unto him
his nature also.

2. Of all kind of men, God is the least beholden
unto them ; for he doth most for them, and they do,
ordinarily, least for him.

1 Tac. Ann. i. 6. « Vide Herod, viu. 108, 109.

304 ESSAYS.

3. A king that would not feel his crown too heavy
for him, must wear it every day ; but if he think it
too light, he knoweth not of what metal it is made.

4. He must make religion the rule of govern-
ment, and not to balance the scale ; for he that cast-
eth in religion only to make the scales even, his own
weight is contained in those characters : " Mene,
mene, tekel, upharsin : He is found too light, his
kingdom shall be taken from him."

5. And that king that holds not religion the best
reason of state, is void of all piety and justice, the
supporters of a king.

6. He must be able to give counsel himself, but
not rely thereupon ; for though happy events justify
their counsels, yet it is better that the evil event of
good advice be rather imputed to a subject than a
sovereign.

7. He is a fountain of honor, which should not
run with a waste-pipe, lest the courtiers sell the
water, and then, as Papists say of their holy wells,
it loses the virtue.

8. He is the life of the law, not only as he is Lex
loquens himself, but because he animateth the dead
letter, making it active towards all his subjects
prcemio et pcena.

9. A wise king must do less in altering his laws
than he may ; for new government is ever dangerous.
It being true in the body politic, as in the corporal,
that omnis subita immutatio est periculosa; and
though it be for the better, yet it is not without

OF A KING. 305

a fearful apprehension ; for he that changeth the
fundamental laws of a kingdom, thinketh there is
no good title to a crown, but by conquest.

10. A king that setteth to sale seats of justice,
oppresseth the people; for he teacheth his judges
to sell justice; and pretio parata pretio venditur
justitia.

11. Bounty and magnificence are virtues very
regal, but a prodigal king is nearer a tyrant than a
parsimonious ; for store at home draweth not his
contemplations abroad, but want supplieth itself of
what is next, and many times the next way. A
king therein must be wise, and know what he may
justly do.

12. That king which is not feared, is not loved;
and he that is well seen in his craft, must as well
study to be feared as loved ; yet not loved for fear,
but feared for love.

13. Therefore, as he must always resemble Him
whose great name he beareth, and that as in mani-
festing the sweet influence of his mercy on the severe
stroke of his justice sometimes, so in this not to
suffer a man of death to live ; for, besides that the
land doth mourn, the restraint of justice towards
sin doth more retard the affection of love, than the
extent of mercy doth inflame it; and sure, where
love is [ill] bestowed, fear is quite lost.

14. His greatest enemies are his flatterers; for
though they ever speak on his side, yet their words
still make against him.

306 ESSAYS.

15. The love which a king oweth to a weal public
should not be overstrained to any one particular;
yet that his more especial favor do reflect upon
some worthy ones, is somewhat necessary, because
there are few of that capacity.

16. He must have a special care of five things,
if he would not have his crown to be but to him
infelix felicitas.

First, that simulata sanctitas be not in the church ;
for that is duplex iniquitas.

Secondly, that inutilis (Bquitas sit not in the chan-
cery ; for that is inepta misericordia.

Thirdly, that utilis iniquitas keep not the ex-
chequer; for that is crudele latrocinium.

Fourthly, that fidelis temeritas be not his general ;
for that will bring but seram pcsnitentiam.

Fifthly, that infidelis prudentia be not his secre-
tary ; for that is anguis sub viridi herbd.

To conclude : as he is of the greatest power, so
he is subject to the greatest cares, made the servant
of his people, or else he were without a calling at all.

He, then, that honoreth him not is next an atheist,
wanting the fear of God in his heart.

ON DEATH. 307

III. — ON DEATH.

1. I HAVE often thought upon death, and I find
it the least of all evils. All that which is past is as
a dream ; and he that hopes or depends upon time
coming, dreams waking. So much of our life as
we have discovered is already dead ; and all those
hours which we share, even from the breasts of our
mothers, until we return to our grandmother the
earth, are part of our dying days, whereof even
this is one, and those that succeed are of the same
nature, for we die daily ; and, as others have given
place to us, so we must, in the end, give way to
others.

2. Physicians, in the name of death, include all
sorrow, anguish, disease, calamity, or whatsoever
can fall in the life of man, either grievous or un-
welcome. But these things are familiar unto us,
and we suffer them every hour; therefore we die
daily, and I am older since I affirmed it.

3. I know many wise men that fear to die, for
the change is bitter, and flesh would refuse to prove
it ; besides, the expectation brings terror, and that
exceeds the evil. But I do not believe that any^
man fears to be dead, but only the stroke of death jy
and such are my hopes, that if Heaven be pleased,
and nature renew but my lease for twenty-one years
more without asking longer days, I shall be strong

308 ESSAYS.

enough to acknowledge without mourning, that I
was begotten mortal. Virtue walks not in the high-
way, though she go 'per alta ; this is strength and
the blood to virtue, to contemn things that be de-
sired, and to neglect that which is feared.

4. Why should man be in love with his fetters,
though of gold ? Art thou drowned in security ?
Then I say thou art perfectly dead. For though
thou movest, yet thy soul is buried within thee, and
thy good angel either forsakes his guard, or sleeps.
There is nothing under heaven, saving a true friend
(who cannot be counted within the number of mov-
ables), unto which my heart doth lean. And this
dear freedom hath bsgotten me this peace, that I
mourn not for th*3t> end which must be, nor spend
one wish to have one minute added ^ to the uncertain
date of my years. It was no mean apprehension
of Lucian, who says of Menippus, that in his travels
through hell, he knew not the kings of the earth
from other men but only by their louder cryings
and tears, which were fostered in them through the
remorseful memory of the good days they had seen,
and the fruitful havings which they so unwillingly
left behind them. He that was well seated, looked
back at his portion, and was loath to forsake his
farm ; and others, either minding marriages, pleasures,
profit, or preferment, desired to be excused from
death's banquet. They had made an appointment
with earth, looking at the blessings, not the hand
that enlarged them, forgetting how unclothedly they

ON DEATH. 309

came hither, or with what naked ornaments they
were arrayed.

5. But were we servants of the precept given,
and observers of the heathens' rule, Memento mori,
and not become benighted with this seeming felic-
ity, we should enjoy it as men prepared to lose,
and not wind up our thoughts upon so perishing a
fortune. He that is not slackly strong (as the
servants of pleasure), how can he be found unready
to quit the vail and false visage of his perfection?
The soul having shaken off her flesh, doth then set
up for herself, and contemning things that are
under, shows what finger hath enforced her ; for the
souls of idiots are of the same piece with those of
statesmen, but now and then nature is at a fault,
and this good guest of ours takes soil in an imper-
fect body, and so is slackened from showing her
wonders, like an excellent musician, which cannot
utter himself upon a defective instrument.

6. But see how I am swerved, and lose my
course, touching at the soul that doth least hold
action with death, who hath the surest property in
this frail act ; his style is the end of all flesh, and
the beginning of incorruption.

This ruler of monuments leads men, for the most
part, out of this world with their heels forward, in
token that he is contrary to life, which being ob-
tained, sends men headlong into this wretched thea-
tre, where, being arrived, their first language is that
of mourning. Nor, in my own thoughts, can I com-

310 ESSAYS.

pare men more fitly to any thing than to the Indian
fig-tree, which, being ripened to his full height, is
said to decline his branches do^vn to the earth,
whereof she conceives again, and they become roots
in their own stock.

So man, having derived his being from the earth,
first lives the life of a tree, drawing his nourish-
ment as a plant, and made ripe for death, he tends
downwards, and is sown again in his mother the
earth, where he perisheth not, but expects a quick-
ening.

7. So we see death exempts not a man from be-
ing, but only presents an alteration ; yet there are
some men (I think) that stand otherwise persuaded.
Death finds not a worse friend than an alderman,
to whose door I never knew him welcome ; but he
is an importunate guest, and will not be said nay.

And though they themselves shall aflBrm that
they are not within, yet the answer will not be
taken ; and that which heightens their fear is, that
they know they are in danger to forfeit their flesh*
but are not wise of the payment-day, which sickly
uncertainty is the occasion that (for the most part)
they step out of this world unfurnished for their
general account, and, being all unprovided, desire
yet to hold their gravity, preparing their souls to
answer in scarlet.

Thus I gather, that death is unagreeable to most
citizens, because they commonly die intestate; this
being a rule, that when their will is made, they

ON DEATH. 311

think themselves nearer a grave than before. Now
they, out of the wisdom of thousands, think to scare
destiny, from which there is no appeal, by not mak-
ing a will, or to live longer by protestation of their
unwillingness to die. They are, for the most part,
well made in this world (accounting their treasure
by legions, as men do devils). Their fortune looks
towards them, and they are willing to anchor at it,
and desire (if it be possible) to put the evil day far
off from them, and to adjourn their ungrateful and
killing period.

No, these are not the men which have bespoken
death, or whose looks are assured to entertain a
thought of him.

8. Death arrives gracious only to such as sit in
darkness, or lie heavy burdened with grief and irons ;
to the poor Christian, that sits bound in the galley ;
to despairful widows, pensive prisoners, and deposed
kings ; to them whose fortune runs back, and whose
spirits mutiny : unto such, death is a redeemer, and
the grave a place for retiredness and rest.

These wait upon the shore of death, and waft unto
him to draw near, wishing above all others to see
his star, that they might be led to his place ; wooing
the remorseless sisters to wind down the watch of
their life, and to break them off before the hour.

9. But death is a doleful messenger to a usurer,
and fate untimely cuts their thread ; for it is never
mentioned by him, but when rumors of war and
civil tumults put him in mind thereof.

312 ESSAYS.

And when many hands are armed, and the peace
of a city in disorder, and the foot of the common
soldiers sounds an alarm on his stairs, then perhaps
such a one (broken in thoughts of his moneys abroad,
and cursing the monuments of coin which are in
his house) can be content to think of death, and
(being hasty of perdition) will perhaps hang himself,
lest his throat should be cut ; provided that he may
do it in his study, surrounded with wealth, to which
his eye sends a faint and languishing salute, even
upon the turning off; remembering always, that he
have time and liberty, by writing, to depute himself
as his own heir.

For that is a great peace to his end, and recon-
ciles him wonderfully upon the point.

10. Herein we all dally with ourselves, and are
without proof of necessity. I am not of those, that
dare promise to pine away myself in vainglory, and
I hold such to be but feat boldness, and them that
dare commit it, to be vain. Yet, for my part, I
think nature should do me great wrong, if I should
be so long in dying, as I was in being born.

To speak truth, no man knows the lists of his
own patience, nor can divine how able he shall be
in his sufferings, till the storm come (the perfectest
virtue being tried in action); but I would (out of a
care to do the best business well) ever keep a guard,
and stand upon keeping faith and a good conscience.

11. And if wishes might find place, I would dia
together, and not my mind often, and my body once ;

ON DEATH. 313

that is, I would prepare for the messengers of death,
sickness, and affliction, and not wait long, or be
attempted by the violence of pain.

Herein I do not profess myself a Stoic, to hold
grief no evil, but opinion, and a thing indifferent.

But I consent with Caesar, that the suddenest
passage is easiest, and there is nothing more awak-
ens our resolve and readiness to die than the qui-
eted conscience, strengthened with opinion that we
shall be well spoken of upon earth by those that
are just, and of the family of virtue ; the opposite
whereof is a fury to man, and makes even life
unsweet.

Therefore, what is more heavy than evil fame
deserved? Or, likewise, who can see worse days,
than he that, yet living, doth follow at the funerals
of his own reputation?

I have laid up many hopes, that I am privileged
from that kind of mourning, and could wish the like
peace to all those with whom I wage love.

12. I might say much of the commodities that
death can sell a man ; but, briefly, death is a friend
of ours, and he that is not ready to entertain him,
is not at home. Whilst I am, my ambition is not
to foreflow the tide ; I have but so to make my
interest of it as I may account for it ; I would wish
nothing but what might better my days, nor desire
any greater place than the front of good opinion,
I make not love to the continuance of days, but to
the goodness of them; nor wish to die, but refer

314 ESSAYS.

myself to my hour, which the great Dispenser of all
things hath appointed me; yet, as I am frail, and
suffered for the first fault, were it given me to
choose, I should not be earnest to see the evening
of my age ; that extremity, of itself, being a dis-
ease, and a mere return into infancy ; so that, if
perpetuity of life might be given me, I should think
what the Greek poet said ; " Such an age is a mor-
tal evil." And since I must needs be dead, I require
it may not be done before mine enemies, that I be not
stript before I be cold ; but before my friends. The
night is even now : but that name is lost ; it is not
now late, but early. Mine eyes begin to discharge
their watch, and compound with this fleshly weak-
ness for a time of perpetual rest ; and I shall pres-
ently be as happy for a few hours, as I had died
the first hour I was born.

THE WISDOM OF THE ANCIEJSTTS.

PREFACE.

The earliest antiquity lies buried in silence and ob-
livion, excepting the remains we have of it in sacred
writ. This silence was succeeded hj poetical fables,
and these, at length, by the writings we now enjoy ; so
that the concealed and secret learning of the ancients
seems separated from the history and knowledge of
the following ages by a veil, or partition-wall of fables,
interposing between the things that are lost and those
that remain.^

Many may imagine that I am here entering upon a
work of fancy, or amusement, and design to use a poet-
ical liberty', in explaining poetical fables. It is true,
fables, in general, are composed of ductile matter, that
may be drawn into great variety by a witty talent or an
inventive genius, and be delivered of plausible meanings

1 Varro distributes the ages of the world into three periods;
viz : the unknown, the fabulous, and the historical. Of the former,
we have no accounts but in Scripture ; for the second, we must
consult the ancient poets, such as Hesiod, Homer, or those who
wrote still earlier, and then again come back to Ovid, who, in his
Metamorphoses, seems, in imitation perhaps of some ancient Greek
poet, to have intended a complete collection, or a kind of continued
and connected history of the fabulous age, especially with regard
to changes, revolutions, or transformations.

318 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

which they never contained. But this procedure has
already been carried to excess ; and great numbers, to
procure the sanction of antiquity to their own notions
and inventions, have miserably wrested and abused
the fables of the ancients.

Nor is this only a late or unfrequent practice, but of
ancient date and common even to this day. Thus
Chrysippus, like an interpreter of dreams, attributed
the opinions of the Stoics to the poets of old ; and the
chemists, at present, more childishly apply the poetical
transformations to their experiments of the furnace.
And though I have well weighed and considered all
this, and thoroughly seen into the levity which the mind
indulges for allegories and allusions, yet I cannot but
retain a high value for the ancient mythologj'. And,
certainly, it were very injudicious to suffer the fondness
and licentiousness of a few to detract from the honor
of allegor^^ and parable in general. This would be
rash, and almost profane ; for, since religion delights in
such shadows and disguises, to abolish them were, in
a manner, to prohibit all intercourse betwixt things
divine and human.

Upon deliberate consideration, my judgment is, that
a concealed instruction and allegory was originally in-
tended in many of the ancient fables. This opinion
may, in some respect, be owing to the veneration I
have for antiquity, but more to observing that some
fables discover a great and evident similitude, relation,
and connection with the thing they signify, as well in
the structure of the fable as in the propriety of the
names whereby the persons or actors are characterized ;
insomuch, that no one could positively deny a sense

PREFACE. 319

and meaning to be from the first intended, and pur-
posely shadowed out in them. For who can hear that
Fame, after the giants were destroyed, sprung up as
their posthumous sister, and not apply it to the clamor
of parties and the seditious rumors which commonly
% about for a time upon the quelling of insurrections?
Or who can read how the giant Tj-phon cut out and
carried away Jupiter's sinews — which Mercur}' after-
wards stole, and again restored to Jupiter — and not
presently observe that this allegory denotes strong and
powerful rebellions, which cut away from kings their
sinews, both of money and authority ; and that the way
to have them restored is by lenity, affabilit3% and pru-
dent edicts, which soon reconcile, and, as it were, steal
upon the affections of the subject? Or who, upon
hearing that memorable expedition of the gods against
the giants, when the bra3'ing of Silenus's ass greatly
contributed in putting the giants to flight, does not
clearl}' conceive that this directly points at the mon-
strous enterprises of rebellious subjects, which are fre-
quently frustrated and disappointed by vain fears and
empty rumors?

Again, the conformity and purport of the names is
frequently manifest and self-evident. Thus Metis, the
wife of Jupiter, plainly signifies counsel ; Typhon,
swelling ; Pan, universality ; Nemesis, revenge, &c. Nor
is it a wonder, if sometimes a piece of histor}' or other
things are introduced, by way of ornament ; or, if the
times of the action are confounded ; or, if part of one
fable be tacked to another ; or, if the allegory be new
turned ; for all this must necessarily happen, as the
fables were the inventions of men who lived in different

320 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

ages, and had different views ; some of them being
ancient, others more modern ; some having an eye to
natural philosophy, and others to morality or civil
policy.

It maj"^ pass for a further indication of a concealed
and secret meaning, that some of these fables are so
absurd and idle in their narration, as to show and pro-
claim an allegory, even afar off. A fable that carries
probabilit}' with it may be supposed invented for pleas-
ure, or in imitation of history ; but those that could
never be conceived or related in this way must surely
have a different use. For example, what a monstrous
fiction is this, that Jupiter should take Metis to wife,
and as soon as he found her pregnant eat her up,
wherebj' he also conceived, and out of his head brought
forth Pallas armed. Certainly no mortal could, but
for the sake of the moral it couches, invent such an
absurd dream as this, so much out of the road of
thought !

But the argument of most weight with me is this,
that many of these fables by no means appear to have
been invented b^^ the persons who relate and divulge
tliem, whether Homer, Hesiod, or others ; for if I were
assured they first flowed from those later times and
authors that transmit them to us, I should never ex-
pect any thing singularlj' great or noble from such an
origin. But whoever attentivel}' considers the tiling,
will find that these fables are delivered down and
related by those writers, not as matters then first
invented and proposed, but as things received and era-
braced in earlier ages. Besides, as they are differently
related bj' writers nearly of the same ages, it is easily

PREFACE. 321

perceived that the relators drew from the common
stock of ancient tradition, and varied but in point of
embellishment, which is their own. And this princi-
pally raises m}' esteem of these fables, which I receive,
not as the product of the age, or invention of the poets,
but as sacred relics, gentle whispers, and the breath of
better times, that from the traditions of more ancient
nations came, at length, into the flutes and trumpets
of the Greeks. But if any one shall, notwithstanding
this, contend that allegories are always adventitious, or
imposed upon the ancient fables, and no way native or
genuinely contained in them, we might here leave him
undisturbed in that gravity of judgment he affects
(though we cannot help accounting it somewhat dull
and phlegmatic), and, if it were worth the trouble,
proceed to another kind of argument.

Men have proposed to answer two different and con-
trary ends by the use of parable ; for parables serve as
well to instruct or illustrate as to wrap up and envelop ;
so that though, for the present, we drop the concealed
use, and suppose the ancient fables to be vague, unde-
terminate things, formed for amusement, still, the other
use must remain, and can never be given up. And
every man, of any learning, must readily allow that
this method of instructing is grave, sober, or exceed-
ingly useful, and sometimes necessar}' in the sciences,
as it opens an easy and familiar passage to the human
understanding, in all new discoveries that are abstruse
and out of the road of vulgar opinions. Hence, in the
first ages, when such inventions and conclusions of the
human reason as are now trite and common were new
and little known, all things abounded with fables, para-
21

322 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

bles, similes, comparisons, and allusions, which were
not intended to conceal, but to inform and teach, whilst
the minds of men continued rude and unpractised in
matters of subtilty and speculation, or even impatient,
and in a manner incapable of receiving such things as
did not fall directly under and strike the senses. For
as hieroglyphics were in use before writing, so were
parables in use before arguments. And even to this
day, if any man would let new light in upon the human
understanding, and conquer prejudice, without raising
contests, animosities, opposition, or disturbance, he
must still go in the same path, and have recourse to
the like method of allegor}', metaphor, and allusion.

To conclude, the knowledge of the early ages was
either great or happy ; great, if they by design made
this use of trope and figure ; happy, if, whilst they had
other views, thej' afforded matter and occasion to such
noble contemplations. Let either be the case, our
pains, perhaps, will not be misemplo^'ed, whether we
illustrate antiquity or things themselves.

The like, indeed, has been attempted by others ; but,
to speak ingenuously, their great and voluminous labors
have almost destroyed the energy, the efficacy, and
grace of the thing ; whilst, being unskilled in nature,
and their learning no more than that of commonplace,
they have applied the sense of the parables to certain
general and vulgar matters, without reaching to their
real purport, genuine interpretation, and full depth.
For myself, therefore, I expect to appear new in these
common things, because, leaving untouched such as
are sufficiently plain and open, I shall drive only at
those that are either deep or rich.

THE WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

A SERIES OF MYTHOLOGICAL FABLES.^

I. — CASSANDRA, OR DIVINATION.

EXPLAINED OF TOO FREE AND UNSEASONABLE ADVICE,

The poets relate, that Apollo, falling in love
with Cassandra, was still deluded and put off by
her, yet fed with hopes, till she had got from him
the gift of prophesy; and, having now obtained
her end, she flatly rejected his suit. Apollo, unable
to recall his rash gift, yet enraged to be outwitted
by a girl, annexed this penalty to it, that though
she should always prophesy true, she should never
be believed ; whence her divinations were always
slighted, even when she again and again predicted
the ruin of her country.

Explanation. — This fable seems invented to
express the insignificance of unseasonable advice.
For they who are conceited, stubborn, or intracta-
ble, and listen not to the instructions of Apollo, the
god of harmony, so as to learn and observe the

^ Most of these fables are contained . in Ovid's Metamorphoses
and Fasti, and are fully explained in Bohn's Classical Library
translation.

S24 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

modulations and measures of affairs, the sharps and
flats of discourse, the difference between judicious
and vulgar ears, and the proper times of speech
and silence, let them be ever so intelligent, and ever
so frank of their advice, or their counsels ever so
good and just, yet all their endeavors, either of
persuasion or force, are of little significance, and
rather hasten the ruin of those they advise. But,
at last, when the calamitous event has made the
sufferers feel the effect of their neglect, they too
late reverence their advisers, as deep, foreseeing,
and faithful prophets.

Of this, we have a remarkable instance in Cato
of Utica, who discovered afar off, and long foretold,
the approaching ruin of his country, both in the
first conspiracy, and as it was prosecuted in the civil
war between Caesar and Pompey, yet did no good
the while, but rather hurt the commonwealth, and
hurried on its destruction, which Cicero wisely ob-
served in these words : " Cato, indeed, judges excel-
lently, but prejudices the state ; for he speaks as in
the commonwealth of Plato, and not as in the dregs
of Romulus."

IL — TYPHON, OR A REBEL.

EXPLAINED OF REBELLION.

The fable runs, that Juno, enraged at Jupiter's
bringing forth Pallas without her assistance, inces-
santly solicited all the gods and goddesses, that she

TYPIION, OR A REBEL. 325

might produce without Jupiter ; and having by vio-
lence and importunity obtained the grant, she struck
the earth, and thence immediately sprung up Ty-
phon, a huge and dreadful monster, whom she com-
mitted to the nursing of a serpent. As soon as he
was grown up, this monster waged war on Jupiter,
and taking him prisoner, in the battle, carried him
away on his shoulders, into a remote and obscure
quarter; and there cutting out the sinews of his
hands and feet, he bore them olF, leaving Jupiter
behind miserably maimed and mangled.

But Mercury afterwards stole these sinews from
Typhon, and restored them to Jupiter. Hence, re-
covering his strength, Jupiter again pursues the
monster; first wounds him with a stroke of his
thunder, when serpents arose from the blood of
the wound ; and now the monster being dismayed,
and taking to flight, Jupiter next darted Mount
^tna upon him, and crushed him with the weight.

Explanation. — This fable seems designed to
express the various fates of kings, and the turns
that rebellions sometimes take, in kingdoms. For
princes may be justly esteemed married to their
states, as Jupiter to Juno ; but it sometimes hap-
pens, that, being depraved by long wielding of the
sceptre, and growing tyrannical, they would engross
all to themselves, and, slighting the counsel of their
senators and nobles, conceive by themselves ; that
is, govern according to their own arbitrary will and

326 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

pleasure. This inflames the people, and makes them
endeavor to create and set up some head of their
own. Such designs are generally set on foot by the
secret motion and instigation of the peers and nobles,
under whose connivance the common sort are pre-
pared for rising; whence proceeds a swell in the
state, which is appositely denoted by the nursing
of Typhon. This growing posture of affairs is fed
by the natural depravity and malignant dispositions
of the vulgar, which to kings is an envenomed
serpent. And now the disaffected, uniting their
force, at length break out into open rebellion, which,
producing infinite mischiefs, both to prince and
people, is represented by the horrid and multiplied
deformity of Typhon, with his hundred heads, de-
noting the divided powers; his flaming mouths,
denoting fire and devastation; his girdles of snakes,
denoting sieges and destruction; his iron hands,
slaughter and cruelty; his eagle's talons, rapine
and plunder; his plumed body, perpetual nmiors,
contradictory accounts, &c. And sometimes these
rebellions grow so high, that kings are obliged, as
if carried on the backs of the rebels, to quit the
throne, and retire to some remote and obscure part
of their dominions, with the loss of their sinews,
both of money and majesty.

But if now they prudently bear this reverse of
fortune, they may, in a short time, by the assistance
of Mercury, recover their sinews again ; that is,
by becoming moderate and affable; reconciling the

THE CYCLOPS, OR MINISTERS OF TERROR. 327

minds and affections of the people to them, by gra-
cious speeches and prudent proclamations, which
will win over the subject cheerfully to afford new
aids and supplies, and add fresh vigor to authority.
But prudent and wary princes here seldom incline to
try fortune by a war, yet do their utmost, by some
grand exploit, to crush the reputation of the rebels ;
and if the attempt succeeds, the rebels, conscious
of the wound received, and distrustful of their cause,
first betake themselves to broken and empty threats,
like the hissings of serpents ; and next, when matters
are grown desperate, to flight. And now, when
they thus begin to shrink, it is safe and seasonable
for kings to pursue them with their forces, and the
whole strength of the kingdom; thus effectually
quashing and suppressing them, as it were by the
weight of a mountain.

in. —THE CYCLOPS, OR THE MINISTERS
OF TERROR.

EXPLAINED OF BASE COURT OFFICERS.

It is related that the Cyclops, for their savage-
ness and cruelty, were by Jupiter first thrown into
Tartarus, and there condemned to perpetual impris-
onment; but that afterwards Tellus persuaded Ju-
piter it would be for his service to release them,
and employ them in forging thunderbolts. This

323 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

he accordingly did ; and they, with unwearied pains
and diligence, hammered out his bolts, and other
instruments of terror, with a frightful and continual
din of the anvil.

It happened, long after, that Jupiter was dis-
pleased with ^sculapius, the son of Apollo, for
having, by the art of medicine, restored a dead man
to life; but concealing his indignation, because the
action in itself was pious and illustrious, he secretly
incensed the Cyclops against him, who, without
remorse, presently slew him with their thunderbolts :
in revenge whereof, Apollo, with Jupiter's conni-
Tance, shot them all dead with his arrows.

Explanation. — This fable seems to point at
the behavior of princes, who, having cruel, bloody,
and oppressive ministers, first punish and displace
them ; but afterwards, by the advice of Tellus, that
is, some earthly-minded and ignoble person, employ
them again, to serve a turn, when there is occasion
for cruelty in execution, or severity in exaction ;
but these ministers being base in their nature, whet
by their former disgrace, and well aware of what is
expected from them, use double diligence in their
office ; till, proceeding unwarily, and over-eager to
gain favor, they sometimes, from the private nods,
and ambiguous orders of their prince, perform some
odious or execrable action : when princes, to decline
the envy themselves, and knowing they shall never
want such tools at their back, drop them, and give

NAKCISSUS, OR SELF-LOVE. 329

them up to the friends and followers of the injured
person ; thus exposing them, as sacrifices to revenge
and popular odium : whence, with great applause,
acclamations, and good wishes to the prince, these
miscreants at last meet with their desert.

IV. — NARCISSUS, OR SELF-LOVE.

Narcissus is said to have been extremely beautiful
and comely, but intolerably proud and disdainful ; so
that, pleased with himself, and scorning the world,
he led a solitary life in the woods ; hunting only
with a few followers, who were his professed admirers,
amongst whom the nymph Echo was his constant at-
tendant. In this method of life, it was once his fate
to approach a clear fountain, where he laid himself
down to rest, in the noonday heat ; when, beholding
his image in the water, he fell into such a rapture and
admiration of himself, that he could by no means be
got away, but remained continually fixed and gazing,
till at length he was turned into a flower, of his own
name, which appears early in the spring, and is con-
secrated to the infernal deities, Pluto, Proserpine, and
the Furies.

Explanation. — This fable seems to paint the be-
havior and fortune of those, who, for their beauty, or
other endowments, wherewith nature (without any

330 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

industry of their own) has graced and adorned them,
are extravagantly fond of themselves : for men of such
a disposition generally affect retirement, and absence
from public affairs ; as a life of business must neces-
sarily subject them to many neglects and contempts,
which might disturb and ruffle their minds : whence
such persons commonly lead a solitary, private, and
shadowy life : see little company, and those only such
as highly admire and reverence them ; or, like an
echo, assent to all they say.

And they who are depraved, and rendered still
fonder of themselves by this custom, grow strangely
indolent, inactive, and perfectly stupid. The Narcis-
sus, a spring flower, is an elegant emblem of this
temper, which at first flourishes, and is talked of,
but, when ripe, frustrates the expectation conceived
of it.

And that this flower should be sacred to the infer-
nal powers, carries out the allusion still further ; be-
cause men of this humor are perfectly useless in all
respects : for whatever yields no fruit, but passes, and
is no more, like the way of a ship in the sea, was by
the ancients consecrated to the infernal shades and
powers.

THE RIVER STYX, OR LEAGUES. 331

v. — THE RIVER STYX, OR LEAGUES.

EXPLAINED OF NECESSITY, IN THE OATHS OR SOLEMN
LEAGUES OF PRINCES.

The only solemn oath, by which the gods irrevoca-
bly obliged themselves, is a well known thing, and
makes a part of many ancient fables. To this oath
they did not invoke any celestial divinity, or divine
attribute^ but only called to witness the River Styx,
which, with many meanders, surrounds the infernal
court of Dis. For this form alone, and none but this,
was held inviolable and obligatory ; and the punish-
ment of falsifying it, was that dreaded one of being
excluded, for a certain number of years, the table of
the gods.

Explanation. — This fable seems invented to show
the nature of the compacts and confederacies of prin-
ces ; which, though ever so solemnly and religiously
sworn to, prove but little the more binding for it :
so that oaths, in this case, seem used rather for de-
corum, reputation, and ceremony, than for fidelity,
security, and effectuating. And though these oaths
were strengthened with the bonds of affinity, which
are the links and ties of nature, and again, by mutual
services and good offices, yet we see all this will gen-
erally give way to ambition, convenience, and the
thirst of power: the rather, because it is easy for
princes, under various specious pretences, to defend,

332 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

disguise, and conceal their ambitious desires and in-
sincerity, having no judge to call them to account.
There is, however, one true and proper confirmation
of their faith, though no celestial divinity, but that
great divinity of princes, Necessity ; or, the danger
of the state ; and the securing of advantage.

This necessity is elegantly represented by Styx, the
fatal river that can never be crossed back. And this
deity it was, which Iphicrates the Athenian invoked
in making a league ; and because he roundly and
openly avows what most others studiously conceal, it
may be proper to give his own words. Observing
that the Lacedaemonians were inventing and propos-
ing a variety of securities, sanctions, and bonds of
alliance, he interrupted them thus : " There may, in-
deed, my friends, be one bond and means of security
between us ; and that is, for you to demonstrate you
have delivered into our hands, such things as that, if
you had the greatest desire to hurt us, you could not
be able." Therefore, if the power of offending be
taken away, or if, by a breach of compact, there be
danger of destruction or diminution to the state or trib-
ute, then it is that covenants will be ratified, and
confirmed, as it were by the Stygian oath, whilst
there remains an impending danger of being prohib-
ited and excluded the banquet of the gods ; by which
expression the ancients denoted the rights and pre-
rogatives, the affluence and the felicities, of empire
and dominion.

PAN, OR NATURE. SdZ

VI. — PAN, OR NATURE. 1

EXPLAINED OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY.

The ancients have, with great exactness, delineated
universal nature under the person of Pan. They
leave his origin doubtful ; some asserting him the son
of Mercury, and others the common offspring of all
Penelope's suitors. The latter supposition doubtless
occasioned some later rivals to entitle this ancient
fable Penelope ; a thing frequently practised when
the earlier relations are applied to more modern
characters and persons, though sometimes with great
absurdity and ignorance, as in the present case ; for
Pan was one of the ancientest gods, and long before
the time of Ulysses ; besides, Penelope was venerated
by antiquity for her matronal chastity. A third sort
will have him the issue of Jupiter and Hybris, that is,
Reproach. But whatever his origin was, the Desti-
nies are allowed his sisters.

He is described by antiquity, with pyramidal horns
reaching up to heaven, a rough and shaggy body, a
very long beard, of a biform figure, human above, half
brute below, ending in goat's feet. His arms, or en-
signs of power, are, a pipe in his left hand, composed
of seven reeds ; in his right a crook ; and he wore for
his mantle a leopard's skin.

His attributes and titles were the god of hunters,

1 Homer's Hymn to Pan.

334 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

shepherds, and all the rural inhabitants ; president
of the mountains ; and, after Mercury, the next mes-
senger of the gods. He was also held the leader and
ruler of the Nymphs, who continually danced and
frisked about him, attended with the Satyrs and their
elders, the Sileni. He had also the power of striking
terrors, especially such as were vain and superstitious ;
whence they came to be called panic terrors. ^

Few actions are recorded of him ; only a principal
one is, that he challenged Cupid at wrestling, and
was worsted. He also catched the giant Typhon
in a net, and held him fast. They relate further of
him, that when Ceres, growing disconsolate for the
rape of Proserpine, hid herself, and all the gods
took the utmost pains to find her, by going out dif-
ferent ways for that purpose, Pan only had the good
fortune to meet her, as he was hunting, and discov-
ered her to the rest. He likemse had the assurance
to rival Apollo in music, and in the judgment of
Midas was preferred; but the judge had, though
with great privacy and secrecy, a pair of ass's ears
fastened on him for his sentence.^

There is very little said of his amours; which
may seem strange among such a multitude of gods,
so profusely amorous. He is only reported to have
been very fond of Echo, who was also esteemed
his wife ; and one nymph more, called Syrinx, with
the love of whom Cupid inflamed him for his in-
solent challenge; so he is reported once to have

* Cicero, Epistle to Atticus, 5. ' Ovid, Metamorphoses, b. ii

PAN, OR NATURE. 335

solicited the moon to accompany him apart into the
deep woods.

Lastly, Pan had no descendant, which also is a
wonder, when the male gods were so extremely
prolific ; only he was the reputed father of a servant-
girl called lambe, who used to divert strangers with
her ridiculous prattling stories.

This fable is perhaps the noblest of all antiquity,
and pregnant with the mysteries and secrets ot
nature. Pan, as the name imports, represents the
universe, about whose origin there are two opinions,
viz : that it either sprung from Mercury, that is,
the divine word, according to the Scriptures and
philosophical divines, or from the confused seeds
of things. For they who allow only one beginning
of all things, either ascribe it to God, or, if they
suppose a material beginning, acknowledge it to be
various in its powers ; so that the whole dispute
comes to these points, viz : either that nature pro-
ceeds from Mercury, or from Penelope and all her
suitors." ^

The third origin of Pan seems borrowed by the
Greeks from the Hebrew mysteries, either by means
of the Egyptians, or otherwise ; for it relates to the

1 This refers to the confused mixture of things, as sung by
Virgil : —

"Namque canebat uti magnum per inane coacta
Semina terrarumque animpeque marisque fuissent ;
Et liquidi simul ignis ; ut his exordia primis
Omnia, et ipse tener mundi concreverit orbis." —

Ed. vi. 81.

336 WISDOM OF THE .ANCIENTS.

state of the world, not in its first creation, but as
made subject to death and corruption after the fall ;
and in this state it was and remains, the offspring
of God and Sin, or Jupiter and Reproach. And
therefore these three several accounts of Pan's birth
may seem true, if duly distinguished in respect of
things and times. For this Pan, or the universal
nature of things, which we view and contemplate,
had its origin from the divine word and confused
matter, first created by God himself, with the
subsequent introduction of sin, and, consequently,
corruption.

The Destinies, or the natures and fates of things,
are justly made Pan's sisters, as the chain of natu-
ral causes links together the rise, duration, and cor-
ruption ; the exaltation, degeneration, and workings ;
the processes, the effects, and changes, of all that
can any way happen to things.

Horns are given him, broad at the roots, but
narrow and sharp at the top, because the nature of
all things seems pyramidal ; for individuals are infi-
nite, but being collected into a variety of species,
they rise up into kinds, and these again ascend, and
are contracted into generals, till at length nature
may seem collected to a point. And no wonder if
Pan's horns reach to the heavens, since the sublim-
ities of nature, or abstract ideas, reach in a manner
to things divine; for there is a short and ready
passage from metaphysics to natural theology.

Pan's body, or the body of nature, is, with great

PAN, OR NATURE. 337

propriety and elegance, painted shaggy and hairy,
as representing the rays of things; for rays are as
the hair or fleece of nature, and more or less worn
by all bodies. This evidently appears in vision,
and in all effects and operations at a distance ; for
whatever operates thus, may be properly said to
emit rays.^ But particularly the beard of Pan is
exceeding long, because the rays of the celestial
bodies penetrate, and act to a prodigious distance,
and have descended into the interior of the earth,
so far as to change its surface ; and the sun himself,
when clouded on its upper part, appears to the eye
bearded.

Again, the body of natui-e is justly described
biform, because of the difference between its supe-
rior and inferior parts, as the former, for their
beauty, regularity of motion, and influence over the
earth, may be properly represented by the human
figure, and the latter, because of their disorder, ir-
regularity, and subjection to the celestial bodies, are
by the brutal. This biform figure also represents the
participation of one species with another ; for there
appear to be no simple natures, but all participate
or consist of two : thus, man has somewhat of the
brute, the brute somewhat of the plant, the plant
somewhat of the mineral ; so that all natural bodies

1 This is always supposed to be the case in vision, the mathe-
matical demonstrations in optics proceeding invariably upon the
assumption of this phenomenon.
22

338 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

have really two faces, or consist of a superior and
an inferior species.

There lies a curious allegory in the making of
Pan goat-footed, on account of the motion of ascent
which the terrestrial bodies have towards the air
and heavens ; for the goat is a clambering creature,
that delights in climbing up rocks and precipices ;
and in the same manner the matters destined to this
lower globe strongly affect to rise upwards, as ap-
pears from the clouds and meteors.

Pan's arms, or the ensigns he bears in his hands,
are of two kinds — the one an emblem of harmony,
the other of empire. His pipe, composed of seven
reeds, plainly denotes the consent and harmony, or
the concords and discords of things, produced by
the motion of the seven planets. His crook, also,
contains a fine representation of the ways of nature,
which are partly straight and partly crooked ; thus
the staff, having an extraordinary bend towards the
top, denotes that the works of Divine Providence
are generally brought about by remote means, or iu
a circuit, as if somewhat else were intended rather
than the effect produced, as in the sending of Joseph
into Egypt, &c. So likewise in human goverment,
they who sit at the helm, manage and wind the
people more successfully by pretext and oblique
courses, than they could by such as are direct and
straight; so that, in effect, all sceptres are crooked
at the top.

Pan's mantle, or clothing, is with great ingenuity

PAN, OR NATURE. 339

made of a leopard's skin, because of the spots it has ;
for in like manner the heavens are sprinkled with
stars, the sea with islands, the earth with flowers,
and almost each particular thing is variegated, or
wears a mottled coat.

The office of Pan could not be more livelily ex-
pressed than by making him the god of hunters ; for
every natural action, every motion and process, is no
other than a chase. Thus arts and sciences hunt out
their works, and human schemes and counsels their
several ends ; and all living creatures either hunt out
their aliment, pursue their prey, or seek their pleas-
ures, and this in a skilful and sagacious manner.^
He is also styled the god of the rural inhabitants, be-
cause men in this situation live more according to
nature than they do in cities and courts, where nature
is so corrupted with effeminate arts, that the saying
of the poet may be verified : —

— pars minima est ipsa puella sui.2

He is likewise particularly styled President of the
Mountains, because in mountains and lofty places
the nature of things lies more open and exposed to
the eye and the understanding.

In his being called the messenger of the gods, next
after Mercury, lies a divine allegory, as next after the
Word of God, the image of the world is the herald of

1 " Torva leaina lupum sequitnr, lupus ipse capellam :
Florentem cytisum sequitur lasciva capella."

Virgil, Eel. iL 63.
* Ovid, Rem. Amoris, v. 843. Mart. Epist.

340 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

the Divine power and wisdom, according to the ex-
pression of the Psalmist : " The heavens declare the
glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handi-
work." i

Pan is delighted with the company of the Nymphs,
that is, the souls of all living creatures are the delight
of the world ; and he is properly called their gov-
ernor, because each of them follows its own nature,
as a leader, and all dance about their own respective
rings, with infinite variety and never-ceasing motion.
And with these continually join the Satyrs and Sileni,
that is, youth and age ; for all things have a kind of
young, cheerful, and dancing time ; and again their
time of slowness, tottering, and creeping. And who-
ever, in a true light, considers the motions and en-
deavors of both these ages, like another Democritus,
will perhaps find them as odd and strange as the
gesticulations and antic motions of the Satyrs and
Sileni.

The power he had of striking terrors contains a
very sensible doctrine ; for nature has implanted fear
in all li\dng creatures, as well to keep them from risk-
ing their lives, as to guard against injuries and vio-
lence ; and yet this nature or passion keeps not its
bounds, but with just and profitable fears always
mixes such as are vain and senseless ; so that all
things, if we could see their insides, would appear
full of panic terrors. Thus mankind, particularly the
vulgar, labor under a high degree of superstition,

1 fsalm xix. 1.

PAN, OR NATURE. 341

which is nothing more than a panic-dread, that
principally reigns in unsettled and troublesome times.

The presumption of Pan in challenging Cupid to
the conflict denotes that matter has an appetite and
tendency to a dissolution of the world, and falling
back to its first chaos again, unless this depravity and
inclination were restrained and subdued by a more
powerful concord and agreement of things, properly
expressed by Love, or Cupid : it is therefore well for
mankind, and the state of all things, that Pan was
thrown and conquered in the stmggle.

His catching and detaining Typhon in the net re-
ceives a similar explanation ; for whatever vast and
unusual swells, which the word typhon signifies, may
sometimes be raised in nature, as in the sea, the clouds,
the earth, or the like, yet nature catches, entangles,
and holds all such outrages and insurrections in her
inextricable net, wove, as it were, of adamant.

That part of the fable which attributes the discovery
of lost Ceres to Pan whilst he was hunting — a hap-
piness denied the other gods, though they diligently
and expressly sought her — contains an exceeding just
and pnident admonition ; viz : that we are not to ex-
pect the discovery of things useful in common life, as
that of com, denoted by Ceres, from abstract philos-
ophies, as if these were the gods of the first order, —
no, not though we used our utmost endeavors this
way, — but only from Pan ; that is, a sagacious ex-
perience and general knowledge of nature, which is
often found, even by accident, to stumble upon such

342 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

discoveries whilst the pursuit was directed another
way.

The event of his contending with Apollo in music
affords us a useful instruction, that may help to hum-
ble the human reason and judgment, which is too
apt to boast and glory in itself. There seem to be
two kinds of harmony, — the one of Divine provi-
dence, the other of human reason ; but the govern-
ment of the world, the administration of its affairs,
and the more secret Divine judgments, sound harsh
and dissonant to human ears or human judgment;
and though this ignorance be justly rewarded with
asses' ears, yet they are put on and worn, not openly,
but with great secrecy ; nor is the deformity of the
thing seen or observed by the vulgar.

We must not find it strange if no amours are re-
lated of Pan besides his marriage with Echo; for
nature enjoys itself, and in itself all other things. He
that loves, desires enjoyment, but in profusion there is
no room for desire ; and therefore Pan, remaining
content with himself, has no passion unless it be for
discourse, which is well shadowed out by Echo, or
talk, or, when it is more accurate, by Syrinx, or writ-
ing.^ But Echo makes a most excellent wife for Pan,
as being no other than genuine philosophy, which
faithfully repeats his words, or only transcribes ex-
actly as nature dictates; thus representing the true
image and reflection of the world without adding a
tittle.

1 Syrinx, signifying a reed, or the ancient pen.

PERSEUS, OR WAR. 343

It tends, also, to the support and perfection of
Pan, or nature, to be without offspring ; for the world
generates in its parts, and not in the way of a whole,
as wanting a body external to itself wherewith to
generate.

Lastly, for the supposed or spurious prattling
daughter of Pan, it is an excellent addition to the
fable, and aptly represents the talkative philosophies
that have at all times been stirring, and filled the
world with idle tales ; being ever barren, empty, and
iiervile, though sometimes indeed diverting and en-
tertaining, and sometimes again troublesome and
importunate.

Vir. — PERSEUS,! OR WAR.

EXPLAIKED OF THE PREPARATION AND CONDUCT
NECESSARY TO WAR,

"The fable relates, that Perseus was dispatched
from the east, by Pallas, to cut off Medusa's head,
who had committed great ravage upon the people of
the west ; for this Medusa was so dire a monster, as
to turn into stone all those who but looked upon her.
She was a Gorgon, and the only mortal one of the
three, the other two being invulnerable. Perseus,
therefore, preparing himself for this grand enter-
prise, had presents made him from three of the

1 Ovid, Metam. b. iv.

344 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

gods : Mercury gave him wings for his heels ; Pluto,
a helmet ; and Pallas, a shield and a mirror. But,
though he was now so well equipped, he posted not
directly to Medusa, but first turned aside to the
Grese, who were half-sisters to the Gorgons. These
Grese were grayheaded, and like old women, fi-ora
their birth, having among them all three but one eye,
and one tooth, which, as they had occasion to go out,
they each wore by turns, and laid them down again
upon coming back. This eye and this tooth they
lent to Perseus, who now judging himself sufficiently
furnished, he, without further stop, flies swiftly
away to Medusa, and finds her asleep. But not
venturing his eyes, for fear she should wake, he
turned his head aside, and viewed her in Pall ass
mirror, and thus directing his stroke, cut off" her
head; when immediately, from the gushing blood,
there darted Pegasus winged. Perseus now in-
serted Medusa's head into Pallas's shield, which
thence retained the faculty of astonishing and be-
numbing all who looked on it."

This fable seems invented to show the prudent
method of choosing, undertaking, and conducting a
war; and, accordingly, lays down three useful pre-
cepts about it, as if they were the precepts of Pallas.

The first is, that no prince should be over-solicit-
ous to subdue a neighboring nation ; for the method
of enlarging an empire is very different from that
of increasing an estate. Regard is justly had to
contiguity, or adjacency, in private lands and pos-

PERSEUS, OR WAR. 345

sessions ; but in the extending of empire, the occa-
sion, the facility, and advantage of a war, are to be
regarded instead of vicinity. It is certain that the
Romans, at the time they stretched but little beyond
Liguria to the west, had by their arms subdued the
provinces as far as Mount Taurus to the east. And
thus Perseus readily undertook a very long expe-
dition, even from the east to the extremities of the
west.

The second precept is, that the cause of the war
be just and honorable; for this adds alacrity both
to the soldiers, and the people who find the supplies ;
procures aids, alliances, and numerous other con-
veniences. Now there is no cause of war more just
and laudable than the suppressing of tyranny; by
which a people are dispirited, benumbed, or left
without life and vigor, as at the sight of Medusa.

Lastly, it is prudently added, that, as there were
three of the Gorgons, who represent war, Perseus
singled her out for this expedition that was mortal ;
which affords this precept, that such kind of wars
should be chose as may be brought to a conclusion
without pursuing vast and infinite hopes.

Again, Perseus's setting-out is extremely well
adapted to his undertaking, and in a manner com-
mands success ; he received dispatch from Mercury,
secrecy from Pluto, and foresight from Pallas. It
also contains an excellent allegory, that the wings
given him by Mercury were for his heels, not for
his shoulders; because expedition is not so much

346 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

required in the first preparations for war, as in the
subsequent matters, that administer to the first ; for
there is no error more frequent in war, than, after
brisk preparations, to halt for subsidiary forces and
effective supplies.

The allegory of Pluto's helmet, rendering men
invisible and secret, is sufficiently evident of itself ;
but the mystery of the shield and the mirror lies
deeper ; and denotes, that not only a prudent caution
must be had to defend, like the shield, but also such
an address and penetration as may discover the
strength, the motions, the counsels, and designs of
the enemy; like the mirror of Pallas.

But though Perseus may now seem extremely
well prepared, there still remains the most impor-
tant thing of all ; before he enters upon the war, he
must of necessity consult the Greae. These Grese
are treasons ; half, but degenerate sisters of the Gor-
gons; who are representatives of wars; for wars
are generous and noble ; but treasons base and vile.
The Grese are elegantly described as hoary-headed,
and like old women from their birth ; on account of
tlie perpetual cares, fears, and trepidations attend-
ing traitors. Their force, also, before it breaks out
into open revolt, consists either in an eye or a tooth ;
for all faction, alienated from a state, is both watch-
ful and biting; and this eye and tooth are, as it
were, common to all the disaffected ; because what-
ever they learn and know is transmitted from one
to another, as by the hands of faction. And for

PERSEUS, OR WAR. 347

the tooth, they all bite with the same : and clamor
with one throat; so that each of them singly ex-
presses the multitude.

These Grese, therefore, must be prevailed upon
by Perseus to lend him their eye and their tooth ;
the eye to give him indications, and make discov-
eries ; the tooth for sowing rumors, raising envy,
and stirring up the minds of the people. And when
all these things are thus disposed and prepared, then
follows the action of the war.

He finds Medusa asleep ; for whoever undertakes
a war with prudence, generally falls upon the
enemy unprepared, and nearly in a state of security ;
and here is the occasion for Pallas's mirror: for it
is common enough, before the danger presents itself,
to see exactly into the state and posture of the
enemy ; but the principal use of the glass is, in the
very instant of danger, to discover the manner
thereof, and prevent consternation; which is the
thing intended by Perseus's turning his head aside,
and viewing the enemy in the glass.^

Two eiFects here follow the conquest: 1. The
darting forth of Pegasus ; which evidently denotes
fame, that flies abroad, proclaiming the victory far
and near. 2. The bearing of Medusa's head in the
shield, which is the greatest possible defence and

^ Thus it is the excellence of a general, early to discover what
turn the battle is likely to take ; and looking prudently behind, as
well as before, to pursue a victory so as not to be unprovided for a
retreat.

348 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

safeguard ; for one grand and memorable enterprise,
happily accomplished, bridles all the motions and
attempts of the enemy, stupefies disafiection, and
quells commotions.

VIII.— END YMION, OR A FAVORITE.

EXPLAINED OF COURT FAVORITES.

The goddess Luna is said to have fallen in love
with the shepherd Endymion, and to have carried
on her amours with him in a new and smgular man-
ner ; it being her custom, whilst he lay reposing in
his native cave, under Mount Latmus, to descend
frequently from her sphere, enjoy his company whilst
he slept, and then go up to heaven again. And all
this while, Endymion's fortune was no way prejudiced
by his unactive and sleepy life, the goddess causing
his flocks to thrive, and grow so exceeding numerous,
that none of the other shepherds could compare
with him.

Explanation. — This fable seems to describe the
tempers and dispositions of princes, who, being
thoughtful and suspicious, do not easily admit to
their privacies such men as are prying, curious, and
vigilant, or, as it were, sleepless; but rather such
as are of an easy, obliging nature, and indulge them
in their pleasures, without seeking anything further ;

ENDYMION, OR A FAVORITE. 349

but seeming ignorant, insensible, or, as it were,
lulled asleep before them.^ Princes usually treat
such persons familiarly; and quitting their throne,
like Luna, think they may, with safety, unbosom to
them. This temper was very remarkable in Tiberius,
a prince exceedingly difficult to please, and who had
no favorites but those that perfectly understood his
way, and, at the same time, obstinately dissembled
their knowledge, almost to a degree of stupidity.

The cave is not improperly mentioned in the
fable ; it being a common thing for the favorites of
a prince to have their pleasant retreats, whither to
invite him, by way of relaxation, though without
prejudice to their own fortunes; these favorites
usually making a good provision for themselves.

For though their prince should not, perhaps, pro-
mote them to dignities, yet, out of real affection, and
not only for convenience, they generally feel the
enriching influence of his bounty.

1 It may be remembered that the Athenian peasant voted for
the banishment of Aristides, because he was called the Just.
Shakspeare forcibly expresses the same thought : —
" Let me have men about me that are fat;

Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights :

Yond Cassias has a lean and hungry look;

He thinks too much : such men are dangerous. "
If Bacon had completed his intended work upon " Sympathy and
Antipathy," the constant hatred evinced by ignorance of intellec-
tual superiority, originating sometimes in the painful feeling of
inferiority, sometimes in the fear of worldly injury would not
have escaped hia notice.

350 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

rX.— THE SISTER OF THE GIANTS, OR FAME.

EXPLAINED OF PUBLIC DETRACTION.

The poets relate, that the giants, produced from
the earth, made war upon Jupiter, and the other
gods, but were repulsed and conquered by thunder ;
whereat the earth, provoked, brought forth Fame,
the youngest sister of the giants, in revenge for the
death of her sons.

Explanation. — The meaning of the fable seems
to be this : the earth denotes the nature of the
vulgar, who are always swelling, and rising against
tlieir rulers, and endeavoring at changes. This dis-
position, getting a fit opportunity, breeds rebels and
traitors, who, with impetuous rage, threaten and con-
trive the overthrow and destruction of princes.

And when brought under and subdued, the same
vile and restless nature of the people, impatient of
peace, produces rumors, detractions, slanders, libels,
&c., to blacken those in authority ; so that rebellious
actions and seditious rumors, differ not in origin and
stock, but only, as it were, in sex ; treasons and re-
bellions being the brothers, and scandal or detraction
the sister.

ACTEON AND PENTHEUS. 351

X.— ACTEON AND PENTHEUS, OR A
CURIOUS MAN.

EXPLAINED OF CURIOSITY, OR PRYING INTO THE SECRETS
OF PRINCES AND DIVINE MYSTERIES.

The ancients afford us two examples for suppress-
ing the impertinent curiosity of mankind, in diving
into secrets, and imprudently longing and endeavoring
to discover them. The one of these is in the person
of Acteon, and the other in that of Pentheus. Acteon,
undesignedly chancing to see Diana naked, was turned
into a stag, and torn to pieces by his own hounds.
And Pentheus, desiring to pry into the hidden mys-
teries of Bacchus's sacrifice, and climbing a tree for
that purpose, was struck with a frenzy. This frenzy
of Pentheus caused him to see things double, particu-
larly the sun, and his own city, Thebes, so that
running homewards, and immediately espying another
Thebes, he runs towards that ; and thus continues in-
cessantly, tending first to the one, and then to the
other, without coming at either.

Explanation. — The first of these fables may re-
late to the secrets of princes, and the second to divine
mysteries. For they who are not intimate with a
prince, yet, against his will, have a knowledge of his
secrets, inevitably incur his displeasure ; and therefore,
being aware that they are singled out, and all oppor-
tunities watched against them, they lead the life of a

352 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

stag, full of fears and suspicions. It likewise fre-
quently happens that their servants and domestics
accuse them, and plot their overthrow, in order to
procure favor with the prince ; for whenever the king
manifests his displeasure, the person it falls upon
must expect his servants to betray him, and worry
him down, as Acteon was worried by his own dogs.

The punishment of Pentheus is of another kind ;
for they who, unmindful of their mortal state, rashly
aspire to divine mysteries, by climbing the heights of
nature and philosophy, here represented by climbing
a tree, — their fate is perpetual inconstancy, perplex-
ity, and instability of judgment. For as there is one
light of nature, and another light that is divine, they
see, as it were, two suns. And as the actions of life,
and the determinations of the will, depend upon the
understanding, they are distracted as much in opinion
as in will; and therefore judge very inconsistently, or
contradictorily ; and see, as it were, Thebes double ;
for Thebes being the refuge and habitation of Pen-
theus, here denotes the ends of actions ; whence they
know not what course to take, but remaining unde-
termined and unresolved in their views and designs,
they are merely driven about by every sudden gust
and impulse of the mind.

ORPHEUS, OR PHILOSOPHY. 353

XL — ORPHEUS, OR PHILOSOPHY.

EXPLAINED OF NATURAL AND MORAL PHILOSOPHY.

Introduction.— The fable of Orpheus, though
trite and common, has never been well interpreted,
and seems to hold out a picture of universal philos-
ophy ; for to this sense may be easily transferred what
is said of his being a wonderful and perfectly divine
person, skilled in all kinds of harmony, subduing and
dra\ving all things after him by sweet and gentle
methods and modulations. For the labors of Orpheus
exceed the labors of Hercules, both in power and dig-
nity, as the works of knowledge exceed the works of
strength.

Fable. — Orpheus having his beloved wife
snatched from him by sudden death, resolved upon
descending to the infernal regions, to tiy if, by the
power of his harp, he could reobtain her. And, in
effect, he so appeased and soothed the infernal powers
by the melody and sweetness of his harp and voice,
that they indulged him the liberty of taking her back,
on condition that she should follow him behind, and
he not turn to look upon her till they came into open
day ; but he, through the impatience of his care and
affection, and thinking himself almost past danger,
at length looked behind him, whereby the condition
was violated, and she again precipitated to Pluto's

354 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

regions. From this time Orpheus grew pensive and
sad, a hater of the sex, and went into solitude, where,
by the same sweetness of his harp and voice, he first
drew the wild beasts of all sorts about him ; so that,
forgetting their natures, they were neither actuated
by revenge, cruelty, lust, hunger, or the desire of
prey, but stood gazing about him, in a tame and gen-
tle manner, listening attentively to his music. Nay,
so great was the power and efficacy of his harmony,
that it even caused the trees and stones to remove,
and place themselves in a regular manner about him.
When he had for a time, and with great admiration,
continued to do this, at length the Thracian women,
raised by the instigation of Bacchus, first blew a deep
and hoarse-sounding horn, in such an outrageous
manner, that it quite drowned the music of Orpheus.
And thus the power which, as the link of their society,
held all things in order, being dissolved, disturbance
reigned anew ; each creature returned to its own na-
ture, and pursued and preyed upon its fellow, as
before. The rocks and woods also started back to
their former places ; and even Orpheus himself was at
last torn to pieces by these female furies, and his
limbs scattered all over the desert. But, in sorrow
and revenge for his death, the River Helicon, sacred
to the Muses, hid its waters under ground, and rose
again in other places.

Explanation. — The fable receives this explana-
tion. The music of Orpheus is of two kinds; one

ORPHEUS, OR PHILOSOPHY. 355

that appeases the infernal powers, and the other that
draws together the wild beasts and trees. The former
properly relates to natural, and the latter to moral
philosophy, or civil society. The reinstatement and
restoration of corruptible things is the noblest work
of natural philosophy ; and, in a less degree, the
preservation of bodies in their own state, or a preven-
tion of their dissolution and corruption. And if this
be possible, it can certainly be eflFected no other way
than by proper and exquisite attemperations of nature ;
as it were by the harmony and fine touching of the
harp. But as this is a thing of exceeding great diffi-
culty, the end is seldom obtained ; and that, probably,
for no reason more than a curious and unseasonable
impatience and solicitude.

And, therefore, philosophy, being almost unequal
to the task, has cause to grow sad, and hence be-
takes itself to human affairs, insinuating into men's
minds the love of virtue, equity, and peace, by means
of eloquence and persuasion ; thus forming men into
societies ; bringing them under laws and regulations ;
and making them forget their unbridled passions
and affections, so long as they hearken to precepts
and submit to discipline. And thus they soon after
build themselves habitations, form cities, cultivate
lands, plant orchards, gardens, &c. So that they
may not improperly be said to remove and call the
trees and stones together.

And this regard to civil affairs is justly and reg-
ularly placed after diligent trial made for restoring

356 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

the mortal body ; the attempt being frustrated in the
end — because the unavoidable necessity of death,
thus evidently laid before mankind, animates them
to seek a kind of eternity by works of perpetuity,
character, and fame.

It is also prudently added, that Orpheus was after-
wards averse to women and wedlock, because the
indulgence of the married state, and the natural
affections which men have for their children, often
prevent them from entering upon any grand, noble,
or meritorious enterprise for the public good ; as
thinking it sufficient to obtain immortality by
their descendants, without endeavoring at great
actions.

And even the works of knowledge, though the
most excellent among human things, have tlieir pe-
riods ; for after kingdoms and commonwealths have
flourished for a time, disturbances, seditions, and
wars, often arise, in the din whereof, first the laws
are silent, and not heard; and then men return to
their own depraved natures — whence cultivated
lands and cities soon become desolate and waste.
And if this disorder continues, learning and philos-
ophy is infallibly torn to pieces ; so that only some
scattered fragments thereof can afterwards be found
up and down, in a few places, like planks after a
shipwreck. And barbarous times succeeding, the
River Helicon dips under-ground ; that is, letters
are buried, till things having undergone their due

C(ELUM, OR BEGINNINGS. 357

course of changes, learning rises again, and shows
its head, though seldom in the same place, but in
some other nation.*

XII. — C(ELUM, OR BEGINNINGS.

EXPLAINED OF THE CREATION, OR ORIGIN OF ALL THINGS.

The poets relate, that Coelum was the most an-
cient of all the gods; that his parts of generation
were cut oif by his son Saturn ; that Saturn had a
numerous offspring, but devoured all his sons, as
soon as they were born; that Jupiter at length
escaped the common fate; and when grown up,
drove his father Saturn into Tartarus; usurped the
kingdom ; cut oif his father's genitals, with the same
knife wherewith Saturn had dismembered Ccelum,
and throwing them into the sea, thence sprung
Venus.

Before Jupiter was well established in his empire,
two memorable wars were made upon him ; the
first by the Titans, in subduing of whom, Sol, the
only one of the Titans who favored Jupiter, per-
formed him singular service; the second by the

1 Thus we see that Orpheus denotes learning ; Eurydice, things,
or the subject of learning ; Bacchus, and the Thracian women, men's
ungoverned passions and appetites, &c. And in the same manner
all the ancient fables might be familiarly illustrated, and brought
down to the capacities of children.

358 WISDOM OF TPIE ANCIENTS.

giants, who being destroyed and subdued by the
thunder and arms of Jupiter, he now reigned secure.

Explanation. — This fable appears to be an
enigmatical account of the origin of all things, not
greatly differing from the philosophy afterwards em-
braced by Democritus, who expressly asserts the
eternity of matter, but denies the eternity of the world;
thereby approaching to the truth of sacred writ,
which makes chaos, or uninformed matter, to exist
before the six days' works.

The meaning of the fable seems to be this : Coelum
denotes the concave space, or vaulted roof that
incloses all matter, and Saturn the matter itself,
which cuts off all power of generation from his
father; as one and the same quantity of matter
remains invariable in nature, without addition or
diminution. But the agitations and struggling mo-
tions of matter, first produced certain imperfect and
ill-joined compositions of things, as it were so many
first rudiments, or essays of worlds ; till, in process
of time, there arose a fabric capable of preserving
its form and structure. Whence the first age was
shadowed out by the reign of Saturn ; who, on
account of the frequent dissolutions, and short dura-
tions of things, was said to devour his children.
And the second age was denoted by the reign of
Jupiter; who thrust, or drove those frequent and
transitory changes into Tartarus — a place expres-
sive of disorder. This place seems to be the middle

CCELUM, OR BEGINNINGS. 359

space, between the lower heavens and the internal
parts of the earth, wherein disorder, imperfection,
mutation, mortality, destruction, and corruption, are
principally found.

Venus was not bom during the former generation
of things, under the reign of Saturn ; for whilst
discord and jar had the upper hand of concord and
uniformity in the matter of the universe, a change
of the entire structure was necessary. And in this
manner things were generated and destroyed, before
Saturn was dismembered. But when this manner
of generation ceased, there immediately followed
another, brought about by Venus, or a perfect and
established harmony of things ; whereby changes
were wrought in the parts, whilst the universal fabric
remained entire and undisturbed. Saturn, however,
is said to be thrust out and dethroned, not killed,
and become extinct ; because, agreeably to the opinicn
of Democritus, the world might relapse into its old
confusion and disorder, which Lucretius hoped would
not happen in his time.^

But now, when the world was compact, and held
together by its own bulk and energy, yet there was
no rest from the beginning ; for first, there followed
considerable motions and disturbances in the celestial
regions, though so regulated and moderated by the
power of the Sun, prevailing over the heavenly
bodies, as to continue the world in its state. After-

1 " Quod procul a nobis flectat Fortuua gubemans ;
Et ratio potius quam res persuadeat ipsa."

360 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

wards there followed the like in the lower parts, by
inundations, storms, winds, general earthquakes, &c.,
which, however, being subdued and kept under, there
ensued a more peaceable and lasting harmony, and
consent of things.

It may be said of this fable, that it includes phi-
losophy; and again, that philosophy includes the
fable; for we know, by faith, that all these things
are but the oracle of sense, long since ceased and
decayed; but the matter and fabric of the world
being justly attributed to a creator.

XIII. — PROTEUS, OR MATTER.

EXPLAINED OF MATTER AND ITS CHANGES.

Proteus, according to the poets, was Neptune's
herdsman ; an old man, and a most extraordinary
prophet, who understood things past and present, as
well as future ; so that besides the business of divi-
nation, he was the revealer and interpreter of all
antiquity, and secrets of every kind. He lived in
a vast cave, where his custom was to tell over his
herd of searcalves at noon, and then to sleep. Who-
ever consulted him, had no other way of obtaining
an answer, but by binding him with manacles and
fetters ; when he, endeavoring to free himself, would
change into all kinds of shapes and miraculous forms ;
as of fire, water, wild beasts, &c. ; till at length he
resumed his own shape again.

PROTEUS, OR MATTER. 361

Explanation. — This fable seems to point at
the secrets of nature, and the states of matter. For
the person of Proteus denotes matter, the oldest of
all things, after God himself;^ that resides, as in a
cave, under the vast concavity of the heavens. He
is represented as the servant of Neptune, because
the various operations and modifications of matter
are principally wrought in a fluid state. The herd,
or flock of Proteus, seems to be no other than the
several kinds of animals, plants, and minerals, in
which matter appears to difiuse and spend itself;
so that after having formed these several species,
and as it were finished its task, it seems to sleep and
repose, without otherwise attempting to produce
any new ones. And this is the moral of Proteus's
counting his herd, then going to sleep.

This is said to be done at noon, not in the morning
or evening ; by which is meant the time best fitted
and disposed for the production of species, from a
matter duly prepared, and made ready beforehand,
and now lying in a middle state, between its first
rudiments and decline ; which, we learn from sacred
history, was the case at the time of the creation ;
when, by the efficacy of the divine command, matter
directly came together, without any transformation
or intermediate changes, which it afiects; instantly
obeyed the order, and appeared in the form of
creatures.

And thus far the fable reaches of Proteus, and

1 Proteus properly signifies primary, oldest, or first.

362 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

his flock, at liberty and unrestrained. For the uni-
verse, with the common structures, and fabrics of
the creatures, is the face of matter, not under con-
straint, or as the flock wrought upon and tortured
by human means. But if any skilful minister of
nature shall apply force to matter, and by design
torture and vex it, in order to its annihilation, it,
on the contrary, being brought under this necessity^
changes and transforms itself into a strange variety
of shapes and appearances ; for nothing but the
power of the Creator can annihilate, or truly destroy
it; so that at length, running through the whole
circle of transformations, and completing its period,
it in some degree restores itself, if the force be con-
tinued. And that method of binding, torturing, or
detaining, will prove the most efiectual and expedi-
tious, which makes use of manacles and fetters ;
that is, lays hold and works upon matter in the
extremest degrees.

The addition in the fable that makes Proteus a
prophet, who had the knowledge of things past,
present, and future, excellently agrees with the nature
of matter ; as he who knows the properties, the
changes, and the processes of matter, must, of neces-
sity, understand the efifects and sum of what it does,
has done, or can do, though his knowledge extends
not to all the parts and particulars thereof.

MEMNON, OR A YOUTH TOO FORWARD. 363

XrV.— MEMNON, OR A YOUTH TOO
FORWARD.

EXPLAINED OF THE FATAL PRECIPITANCY OF YOUTH.

The poets made Memnon the son of Aurora, and
bring him to the Trojan war in beautiful armor, and
flushed with popular praise ; where, thirsting after
further glory, and rashly hurrying on to the greatest
enterprises, he engages the bravest warrior of all the
Greeks, Achilles, and falls by his hand in single com-
bat. Jupiter, in commiseration of his death, sent birds
to grace his funeral, that perpetually chanted certain
mournful and bewailing dirges. It is also reported,
that the rays of the rising sun, striking his statue,
used to give a lamenting sound.

Explanation. — This fable regards the unfor-
tunate end of those promising youths, who, like sons
of the morning, elate with empty hopes and glitter-
ing outsides, attempt things beyond their strength ;
challenge the bravest heroes ; provoke them to the
combat; and, proving unequal, die in their high
attempts.

The death of such youths seldom fails to meet with
infinite pity ; as no mortal calamity is more moving
and afflicting, than to see the flower of virtue cropped
before its time. Nay, the prime of life enjoyed to the
full, or even to a degree of envy, does not assauge or
moderate the grief occasioned by the untimely death

364 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

of such hopeful youths ; but lamentations and bewail-
ings fly, like mournful birds, about their tombs, for a
long while after ; especially upon all fresh occasions,
new commotions, and the beginning of great actions,
the passionate desire of them is renewed, as by the
sun's morning rays.

XV.— TYTHONUS, OR SATIETY.

EXPLAINED OF PREDOMINANT PASSIONS.

It is elegantly fabled by Tythonus, that being ex-
ceedingly beloved by Aurora, she petitioned Jupiter
that he might prove immortal, thereby to secure her-
self the everlasting enjoyment of his company ; but
through female inadvertence she forgot to add, that
he might never grow old ; so that, though he proved
immortal, he became miserably worn and consumed
with age, insomuch that Jupiter, out of pity, at length
transformed him to a grasshopper.

Explanation. — This fable seems to contain an
ingenious description of pleasure ; which at first, as
it were in the morning of the day, is so welcome,
that men pray to have it everlasting, but forget that
satiety and weariness of it will, like old age, overtake
them, though they think not of it ; so that at length,
when their appetite for pleasurable actions is gone,
their desires and afifections often continue; whence

JUNO'S SUITOR, OR BASENESS. 365

we commonly find that aged persons delight them-
selves with the discourse and remembrance of the
things agreeable to them in their better days. This is
very remarkable in men of a loose, and men of a mili-
tary life ; the former whereof are always talking over
their amours, and the latter the exploits of their
youth ; like grasshoppers, that show their vigor only
by their chirping.

XVI. — JUNO'S SUITOR, OR BASENESS.

EXPLAINED OF SDBjynSSION AND ABJECTION.

The poets tell us, that Jupiter, to carry on his love-
intrigues, assumed many different shapes; as of a
bull, an eagle, a swan, a golden shower, &c. ; but
when he attempted Juno, he turned himself into the
most ignoble and ridiculous creature, — even that of
a wretched, wet, weather-beaten, aflPrighted, trembling
and half-starved cuckoo.

Explanation. — This is a wise fable, and drawn
from the very entrails of morality. The moral is, that
men should not be conceited of themselves, and
imagine that a discovery of their excellences will
always render them acceptable ; for this can only
succeed according to the nature and manners of the
person they court, or solicit ; who, if he be a man not
of the same gifts and endowments, but altogether of

366 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

a haughty and contemptuous behavior, here repre-
sented by the person of Juno, they must entirely drop
the character that carries the least show of worth or
gracefulness ; if they proceed upon any other footing,
it is downright folly ; nor is it sufficient to act the
deformity of obsequiousness, unless they really change
themselves, and become abject and contemptible in
their persons.

XVII. — CUPID, OR AN ATOM.

EXPLAINED OF THE CORPUSCULAR PHILOSOPHY.

The particulars related by the poets of Cupid, or
Love, do not properly agree to the same person, yet
they differ only so far, that if the confusion of persons
be rejected, the correspondence may hold. They say,
that Love was the most ancient of all the gods, and
existed before every thing else, except Chaos, which
is held coeval therewith. But for Chaos, the ancients
never paid divine honors, nor gave the title of a god
thereto. Love is represented absolutely without pro-
genitor, excepting only that he is said to have pro-
ceeded from the egg of Nox ; but that himself begot
the gods, and all things else, on Chaos. His attri-
butes are four; viz: 1, perpetual infancy; 2, blind-
ness; 3, nakedness; and 4, archery.

There was also another Cupid, or Love, the
youngest son of the gods, bom of Venus ; and upon

CUPID, OB AN ATOM. 367

him the atti:ibute8 of the elder are transferred, with
some degree of correspondence.

Explanation. — This fable points at, and enters,
the cradle of nature. Love seems to be the appe-
tite, or incentive, of the primitive matter; or, to
speak more distinctly, the natural motion, or moving
principle, of the original corpuscles, or atoms; this
being the most ancient and only power that made
and wrought all things out of matter. It is abso-
lutely without parent, that is, without cause; for
causes are as parents to effects; but this power or
efficacy could have no natural cause; for, excepting
God, nothing was before it; and therefore it could
have no efficient in nature. And as nothing is more
inward with nature, it can neither be a genus nor a
form ; and therefore, whatever it is, it must be
somewhat positive, though inexpressible. And if it
were possible to conceive its modus and process, yet
it could not be known from its cause, as being, next
to God, the cause of causes, and itself without a
cause. And, perhaps, we are not to hope that the
modus of it should fall, or be comprehended, under
human inquiry. Whence it is properly feigned to
be the egg of Nox, or laid in the dark.

The divine philosopher declares, that " God has
made every thing beautiful in its season; and has
given over the world to our disputes and inquiries ;
but that man cannot find out the work which God
has wrought, from its beginning up to its end."

368 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

Tlius the summary or collective law of nature, or
the principle of love, impressed by God upon the
original particles of all things, so as to make them
attack each other and come together, by the repeti-
tion and multiplication whereof all the variety in the
universe is produced, can scarce possibly find full
admittance into the thoughts of men, though some
faint notion may be had thereof. The Greek philos-
ophy is subtile, and busied in discovering the ma-
terial principles of things, but negligent and languid
in discovering the principles of motion, in which
the energy and efficacy of every operation consists.
And here the Greek philosophers seem perfectly
blind and childish ; for the opinion of the Peripa-
tetics, as to the stimulus of matter, by privation, is
little more than words, or rather sound than signifi-
cation. And they who refer it to God, though they
do well therein, yet they do it by a start, and not by
proper degrees of assent ; for doubtless there is one
summary, or capital law, in which nature meets,
subordinate to God, viz: the law mentioned in the
passage above quoted from Solomon ; or the work
which God has wrought from its beginning to its end.
Democritus, who further considered this subject,
having first supposed an atom, or corpuscle, of some
dimension or figure, attributed thereto an appetite,
desire, or first motion simply, and another compar-
atively, imagining that all things properly tended to
the centre of the world ; those containing more mat-
ter falling faster to the centre, and thereby remov-

CUPID, OR AN ATOM. 369

ing, and in the shock driving away, such as held
less. But this is a slender conceit, and regards too
few particulars ; for neither the revolutions of the
celestial bodies, nor the contractions and expansions
of things, can be reduced to this principle. And
for the opinion of Epicurus, as to the declination
and fortuitous agitation of atoms, this only brings
the matter back again to a trifle, and w^raps it up in
ignorance and night.

Cupid is elegantly drawn a perpetual child; for
compounds are larger things, and have their periods
of age ; but the first seeds or atoms of bodies are
small, and remain in a perpetual infant state.

He is again justly represented naked; as all
compounds may properly be said to be dressed and
clothed, or to assume a personage ; whence nothing
remains truly naked, but the original particles of
things.

The blindness of Cupid contains a deep allegory ;
for this same Cupid, Love, or appetite of the world,
seems to have very little foresight, but directs his
steps and motions conformably to what he finds next
him, as blind men do when they feel out their way ;
which renders the divine and overruling Providence
and foresight the more surprising ; as by a certain
steady law, it brings such a beautiful order and reg-
ularity of things out of what seems extremely casual,
void of design, and, as it were, really blind.

The last attribute of Cupid is archery, viz : a
virtue or power operating at a distance; for every

370 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

thing that operates at a distance may seem, as it
were, to dart, or shoot with arrows. And whoever
allows of atoms and vacuity, necessarily supposes
that the virtue of atoms operates at a distance ; for
without this operation, no motion could be excited,
on account of the vacuum interposing, but all things
would remain sluggish and unmoved.

As to the other Cupid, he is properly said to be
the youngest son of the gods, as his power could not
take place before the formation of species, or par-
ticular bodies. The description given us of him
transfers the allegory to morality, though he still
retains some resemblance with the ancient Cupid;
for as Venus universally excites the aflfection of as-
sociation, and the desire of procreation, her son
Cupid applies the affection to individuals; so that
the general disposition proceeds from Venus, but the
more close sympathy from Cupid. The former de-
pends upon a near approximation of causes, but the
latter upon deeper, more necessitating and uncon-
trollable principles, as if they proceeded from the
ancient Cupid, on whom all exquisite sympathies
depend.

DIOMED, OR ZEAL. 871

XVIII. — DIOMED, OR ZEAL.

EXPLAINED OP PERSECUTION, OB ZEAL FOR RELIGION.

DiOMED acquired great glory and honor at the
Trojan war, and was highly favored by Pallas, who
encouraged and excited him by no means to spare
Venus, if he should casually meet her in fight. He
followed the advice with too much eagerness and
intrepidity, and accordingly wounded that goddess
in her hand. This presumptuous action remained
unpunished for a time, and when the war was ended
lie returned with great glory and renown to his own
country, where, finding himself embroiled with do-
mestic afiairs, he retired into Italy. Here also at
first he was well received and nobly entertained by
King Daunus, who, besides other gifts and honors,
erected statues for him over all his dominions. But
upon the first calamity that afflicted the people after
the stranger's arrival, Daunus immediately reflected
that he entertained a devoted person in his palace,
an enemy to the gods, and one who had sacrile-
giously wounded a goddess with his sword, whom it
was impious but to touch. To expiate, therefore,
his country's guilt, he, without regard to the laws of
hospitality, which were less regarded by him than
the laws of religion, directly slew his guest, and
commanded his statues and all his honors to be
razed and abolished. Nor was it safe for others to

372 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

commiserate or bewail so cruel a destiny ; but even
his companions in arms, whilst they lamented the
death of their leader, and filled all places with their
complaints, were turned into a kind of swans, which
are said, at the approach of their own death, to chant
sweet melancholy dirges.

Explanation. — This fable intimates an extra-
ordinary and almost singular thing, for no hero be-
sides Diomed is recorded to have wounded any of
the gods. Doubtless we have here described the
nature and fate of a man who professedly makes
any divine worship or sect of religion, though, in it-
self vain and light, the only scope of his actions, and
resolves to propagate it by fire and sword. For
although the bloody dissensions and differences about
religion were unknown to the ancients, yet so copious
and diffusive was their knowledge, that what they
knew not by experience they comprehended in
thought and representation. Those, therefore, who
endeavor to reform or establish any sect of religion,
though vain, corrupt, and infamous (which is here
denoted under the person of Venus), not by the force
of reason, learning, sanctity of manners, the weight
of arguments, and examples, but would spread
or extirpate it by persecution, pains, penalties, tor-
tures, fire, and sword, may, perhaps, be instigated
hereto by Pallas, that is, by a certain rigid, pruden-
tial consideration, and a severity of judgment, by the
vigor and efficacy whereof they see thoroughly into

DIOMED, OR ZEAL. 373

the fallacies and fictions of the delusions of this kind ;
and through aversion to depravity and a well-meant
zeal, these men usually for a time acquire great fame
and glory, and are by the vulgar, to whom no mod-
erate measures can be acceptable, extolled and al-
most adored, as the only patrons and protectors of
truth and religion, men of any other disposition
seeming, in comparison with these, to be lukewarm,
mean-spirited, and cowardly. This fame and felicity,
however, seldom endures to the end ; but all violence,
unless it escapes the reverses and changes of things
by untimely death, is commonly unprosperous in the
issue ; and if a change of affairs happens, and that
sect of religion which was persecuted and oppressed
gains strength and rises again, then the zeal and
warm endeavors of this sort of men are condemned,
their very name becomes odious, and all their honors
terminate in disgrace.

As to the point that Diomed should be slain by
his hospitable entertainer, this denotes that religious
dissensions may cause treachery, bloody animosities,
and deceit, even between the nearest friends.

That complaining or bewailing should not, in so
enormous a case, be permitted to friends affbcted by
the catastrophe without punishment, includes this
prudent admonition, that almost in all kinds of
wickedness and depravity men have still room left
for commiseration, so that they who hate the crime
may yet pity the person and bewail his calamity,
from a principle of humanity and good-nature ; and

374 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

to forbid the overflowings and intercourses of pity
upon such occasions were the extremest of evils;
yet in the cause of religion and impiety the very
commiserations of men are noted and suspected.
On the other hand, the lamentations and complain-
ings of the followers and attendants of Diomed, that
is, of men of the same sect or persuasion, are usually
very sweet, agreeable, and moving, like the dying
notes of swans, or the birds of Diomed. This also
is a noble and remarkable part of the allegory, de-
noting that the last words of those who suffer for
the sake of religion strongly affect and sway men's
minds, and leave a lasting impression upon the sense
and memory.

XIX.— D^DALUS, OR MECHANICAL SKILL.

EXPLAINED OF ARTS AND ARTISTS IN KINGDOMS AND

STATES.

The ancients liave left us a description of mechan-
ical skill, industry, and curious arts converted to ill
uses, in the person of Da3dalu8, a most ingenious
but execrable artist. This Dsedalus was banished
for the murder of his brother artist and rival, yet
found a kind reception in his banishment from the
kings and states where he came. He raised many
incomparable edifices to the honor of the gods, and
invented many new contrivances for the beautifying

DiEDALUS, OR MECHANICAL SKILL. 375

and ennobling of cities and public places, but still he
was most famous for wicked inventions. Among
the rest, by his abominable industry and destructive
genius, he assisted in the fatal and infamous pro-
duction of the monster Minotaur, that devourer of
promising youths. And then, to cover one mischief
with another, and provide for the security of this
monster, he invented and built a labyrinth ; a work
infamous for its end and design, but admirable and
prodigious for art and workmanship. After this,
that he might not only be celebrated for wicked
inventions, but be sought after, as well for preven-
tion, as for instruments of mischief, he formed that
ingenious device of his clue, which led directly
through all the windings of the labyrinth. This
Daedalus was persecuted by Minos with the utmost
severity, diligence, and inquiry ; but he always found
refuge and means of escaping. Lastly, endeavor-
ing to teach his son Icarus the art of flying, the
novice, trusting too much to his wings, fell from his
towering flight, and was drowned in the sea.

Explanation. — The sense of the fable runs
thus. It first denotes envy, which is continually
upon the watch, and strangely prevails among ex-
cellent artificers ; for no kind of people are observed
to be more implacably and destructively envious to
one another than these.

In the next place, it observes an impolitic and
improvident kind of punishment inflicted upon

876 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

Daedalus — that of banishment; for good workmen
are gladly received evenrwhere, so that banishment
to an excellent artificer is scarce any punishment
at all ; whereas other conditions of life cannot easily
flourish from home. For the admiration of artists
is propagated and increased among foreigners and
strangers ; it being a principle in the minds of men
to slight and despise the mechanical operators of
their own nation.

The succeeding part of the fable is plain, con-
cerning the use of mechanic arts, whereto human
life stands greatly indebted, as receiving from this
treasury numerous particulars for the service of
religion, the ornament of civil society, and the whole
provision and apparatus of life ; but then the same
magazine supplies instruments of lust, cruelty, and
death. For, not to mention the arts of luxury and
debauchery, we plainly see how far the business of
exquisite poisons, guns, engines of war, and such
kind of destructive inventions, exceeds the cruelty
and barbarity of the Minotaur himself.

The addition of the labyrinth contains a beautiful
allegory, representing the nature of mechanic arts
in general ; for all ingenious and accurate mechan-
ical inventions may be conceived as a labyrinth,
which, by reason of their subtilty, intricacy, crossing,
and interfering with one another, and the apparent
resemblances they have among themselves, scarce
any power of the judgment can unravel and distin-
guish ; so that they are only to be understood and
traced by the clue of experience.

D^DALUS, OR MECHANICAL SKILL. 377

It is no less prudently added, that he who invented
the windings of the labyrinth, should also show the
use and management of the clue ; for mechanical
arts have an ambiguous or double use, and serve as
well to produce as to prevent mischief and destruc-
tion ; so that their virtue almost destroys or unv/inds
itself.

Unlawful artsr and indeed frequently arts them-
selves, arc persecuted by Minos, that is, by laws,
which prohibit and forbid their use among the
people ; but notwithstanding this, they are hid, con-
cealed, retained, and everywhere find reception and
skulking-places ; a thing well observed by Tacitus
of the astrologers and fortune-tellers of his time.
"These," says he, "are a kind of men that will
always be prohibited, and yet will always be retained
in our city."

But lastly, all unlawful and vain arts, of what
kind soever, lose their reputation in tract of time ;
grow contemptible and perish, through their over-
confidence, like Icarus; being commonly unable to
perform what they boasted. And to say the truth,
such arts are better suppressed by their own vain
pretensions, than checked or restrained by the bridle
of laws.^

1 Bacon nowhere speaks with such freedom and perspicuity as
under the pretext of explaining these ancient fables; for which
reason they deserve to be the more read by such as desire to under-
stand the rest of his works.

378 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

XX. — ERICTHONIUS, OR IMPOSTURR

EXPLAINED OF THE IMPROPER USE OF FORCE IN NATIHIAX,
PHILOSOPHY.

The poets feign that Vulcan attempted the chas-
tity of Minerva, and impatient of refusal, had re-
course to force ; the consequence of which was the
birth of Ericthonius, whose body from the middle
upwards weis comely and well-proportioned, but his
thighs and legs small, shrunk, and deformed, like an
eel. Conscious of this defect, he became the in-
ventor of chariots, so as to show the graceful, but
conceal the deformed part of his body.

Explanation. — This strange fable seems to
carry this meaning. Art is here represented under
the person of Vulcan, by reason of the various uses
it makes of fire ; and nature, under the person of
Minerva, by reason of the industry employed in her
works. Art, therefore, whenever it ofi*ei"s violence
to nature, in order to conquer, subdue, and bend her
to its purpose, by tortures and force of all kinds,
seldom obtains the end proposed ; yet upon great
struggle and application, there proceed certain im-
perfect births, or lame abortive works, specious in
appearance, but weak and unstable in use; which
are, nevertheless, with great pomp and deceitful
appearances, triumphantly carried about, and shown
by impostors. A procedure very familiar, and re-

DEUCALION, OR RESTITUTION. 379

niarkable in chemical productions, and new mechan-
ical inventions ; especially when the inventors rather
hug their errors than improve upon them, and go on
straggling with nature, not courting her.

XXI. — DEUCALION, OR RESTITUTIOlSr.

EXPLAINED OP A USEFUL HINT IN NATURAL PHILOSOPHY.

The poets tell us, that the inhabitants of the old
world being totally destroyed by the universal deluge,
excepting Deucalion and Pyrrha, these two, desiring
with zealous and fervent devotion to restore mankind,
received this oracle for answer, that "they should
succeed by throwing their mother's bones behind
them." This at first cast them into great sorrow and
despair, because, as all things were levelled by the
deluge, it was in vain to seek their mother's tomb ;
but at length they understood the expression of the
oracle to signify the stones of the earth, which is
esteemed the mother of all things.

Explanation. — This fable seems to reveal a
secret of nature, and correct an error familiar to the
mind ; for men's ignorance leads them to expect the
renovation or restoration of things from their cor-
ruption and remains, as the phcenix is said to be
restored out of its ashes ; which is a very improper
procedure, because such kind of materials have

380 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

finished their course, and are become absolutely unfit
to supply the first rudiments of the same things again ;
whence, in cases of renovation, recourse should be
had to more common principles.

XXII.— NEMESIS, OR THE VICISSITUDE
OF THINGS.

EXPLAINED OF THE REVERSES OF FORTUNE.

Nemesis is represented as a goddess venerated by
all, but feared by the powerful and the fortunate.
She is said to be the daughter of Nox and Oceanus.

She is drawn with wings, and a crown ; a javelin
of ash in her right hand ; a glass containing Ethio-
pians in her left ; and riding upon a stag.

Explanation. — The fable receives this explana^
tion. The word Nemesis manifestly signifies revenge,
or retribution ; for the office of this goddess consisted
in interposing, like the Roman tribunes, with an " I
forbid it," in all courses of constant and perpetual
felicity, so as not only to chastise haughtiness, but
also to repay even innocent and moderate happiness
with adversity ; as if it were decreed, that none of
human race should be admitted to the banquet of the
gods, but for sport. And, indeed, to read over that
chapter of Pliny wherein he has collected the mis-
eries and misfortunes of Augustus Caesar, whom, of
all mankind, one would judge most fortunate, — as

NEMESIS. 381

he had a certaiD p,rfc of using and enjoying prosperity,
with a mind no way tumid, light, effeminate, confused,
or melancholic, — one cannot but think this a very
great and powerful goddess, who could bring such a
victim to her altar.^

The parents of this goddess were Oceanus and
Nox ; that is, the fluctuating change of things, and
the obscure and secret divine decrees. The changes
of things are aptly represented by the Ocean, on
account of its perpetual ebbing and flowing; and
secret providence is justly expressed by Night.
Eveu the heathens have observed this secret Nemesis
of the night, or the difference betwixt divine and
human judgment.^

Wings are given to Nemesis, because of the sudden
and unforeseen changes of things ; for, from the ear-
liest account of time, it has been common for great
and prudent men to fall by the dangers they most
despised. Thus Cicero, when admonished by Brutus
of the infidelity and rancor of Octavius, coolly wrote
back : " I cannot, however, but be obliged to you,
Brutus, as I ought, for informing me, though of such
a trifle." ^

Nemesis also has her crown, by reason of the
invidious and malignant nature of the vulgar, who

* As she also brought the author himself.
2 '* cadit Ripheus, justissimus unus,

Qui fuit ex Teucris, et servantissimus sequi :

Diis aliter visum." — ^neid, lib. ii.
' Te autem mi Brute sicut debeo, amo, quod istud quicquid est
nugarum me scire voluisti.

382 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

generally rejoice, triumph, and crown her, at the fall
of the fortunate and the powerful. And for the
javelin in her right hand, it has regard to those whom
she has actually struck and transfixed. But whoever
escapes her stroke, or feels not actual calamity or mis-
fortune, she affrights with a black and dismal sight in
her left hand ; for doubtless, mortals on the highest
pinnacle of felicity have a prospect of death, diseases,
calamities, perfidious friends, undermining enemies,
reverses of fortune, &c., represented by the Ethiopians
in her glass. Thus Virgil, with great elegance,
describing the battle of Actium, says of Cleopatra,
that "she did not yet perceive the two asps behind
her ; " ^ but soon after, which way soever she turned,
she saw whole troops of Ethiopians stUl before her.

Lastly, it is significantly added, that Nemesis rides
upon a stag, which is a very long-lived creature ; for
though perhaps some, by an untimely death in youth,
may prevent or escape this goddess, yet they who
enjoy a long flow of happiness and power, doubtless
become subject to her at length, and are brought to
yield.

^ *' Regina in mediis patrio vocat agmina sistro ;
Necdum etiam geminoa a tergo respicit angiies."

uEneid, viii. 696.

ACHELOUS, OK BATTLE. 383

XXIIL — ACHELOUS, OR BATTLE.

EXPLAINED OF WAR BY INVASION.

The ancients relate, that Hercules and Achelous
being rivals in the courtship of Deianira, the matter
was contested by single combat ; when Achelous hav-
ing transformed himself, as he had power to do, into
various shapes, by way of trial ; at length, in the
form of a fierce wild bull, prepares himself for the
fight ; but Hercules still retains his human shape,
engages sharply with him, and in the issue broke oflF
one of the bull's horns ; and now Achelous, in great
pain and fright, to redeem his horn, presents Hercules
with the cornucopia.

Explanation. — This fable relates to military
expeditions and preparations ; for the preparation of
war on the defensive side, here denoted by Achelous,
appears in various shapes, whilst the invading side
has but one simple form, consisting either in an army,
or perhaps a fleet. But the country that expects the
invasion is employed infinite ways, in fortifying towns,
blockading passes, rivers, and ports, raising soldiers,
disposing garrisons, building and breaking down
bridges, procuring aids, securing provisions, arms,
ammunition, &c. So that there appears a new face
of things every day ; and at length, when the coun-
try is sufficiently fortified and prepared, it represents
to the life the form and threats of a fierce fighting
bull.

384 AVISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

On the other side, the invader presses on to the
fight, fearing to be distressed in an enemy's country.
And if after the battle he remains master of the field,
and has now broke, as it were, the horn of his enemy,
the besieged, of course, retire inglorious, affrighted,
and dismayed, to their stronghold, there endeavoring
to secure themselves, and repair their strength ; leav-
ing, at the same time, their country a prey to the
conqueror, which is well expressed by the Amalthean
horn, or cornucopia.

XXIV.— DIONYSUS, OR BACCHUS. '

EXPLAINED OF THE PASSIONS.

The fable runs, that Semele, Jupiter's mistress,
having bound him by an inviolable oath to grant her
an unknown request, desired he would embrace her
in the same form and manner he used to embrace
Juno ; and the promise being irrevocable, she was
burnt to death with lightning in the performance.
The embryo, however, was sewed up, and carried in
Jupiter's thigh till the complete time of its birth ;
but the burden thus rendering the father lame, and
causing him pain, the child was thence called Dio-
nysus. When bom, he was committed, for some
years, to be nursed by Proserpina ; and when grown
up, appeared with so effeminate a face, that his sex

^ Ovid's Metamorphoses, b. iii., iv., and vi. ; and Fasti, iii. 767.

DIONYSUS, OR BACCHUS. 385

seemed somewliat doubtful. He also died, and was
buried for a time, but afterwards revived. When a
youth, he first introduced the cultivation and dressing
of vines, the method of preparing wine, and taught
the use thereof; whence becoming famous, he subdued
the world, even to the utmost bounds of the Indies.
He rode in a chariot drawn by tigers. There danced
about him certain deformed demons called Cobali,
&c. The Muses also joined in his train. He married
Ariadne, who was deserted by Theseus. The ivy
was sacred to him. He was also held the inventor
and institutor of religious rites and ceremonies, but
such as were wild, frantic, and full of corruption and
cruelty. He had also the power of striking men with
frenzies. Pentheus and Orpheus were torn to pieces
by the frantic women at his orgies; the first for
climbing a tree to behold their outrageous ceremonies,
and the other for the music of his harp. But the
acts of this god are much entangled and confounded
with those of Jupiter.

ExPLAXATiON. — This fable seems to contain a
little system of morality, so that there is scarce any
better invention in all ethics. Under the history of
Bacchus, is drawn the nature of unlawful desire or
affection, and disorder ; for the appetite and thirst of
apparent good is the mother of all unlawful desire,
though ever so destructive, and all unlawful desires
are conceived in unlawful wishes or requests, rashly
indulged cr granted before they are well understood
25

386 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

or considered, and when the affection begins to grow
warm, the mother of it (the nature of good) is de-
stroyed and burnt up by the heat. And whilst an
unlawful desire lies in the embryo, or unripened in
the mind, which is its father, and here represented
by Jupiter, it is cherished and concealed, especially in
the inferior part of the mind, corresponding to the
thigh of the body, where pain twitches and depresses
the mind so far as to render its resolutions and
actions imperfect and lame. And even after this
child of the mind is confirmed, and gains strength by
consent and habit, and comes forth into action, it
must still be nursed by Proserpina for a time ; that
is, it skulks and hides its head in a clandestine man-
ner, as it were under ground, till at length, when the
checks of shame and fear are removed, and the requi-
site boldness acquired, it either assumes the pretext
of some virtue, or openly despises infamy. And it is
justly observed, that every vehement passion appears
of a doubtful sex, as having the strength of a man at
first, but at last the impotence of a woman. It is
also excellently added, that Bacchus died and rose
again ; for the affections sometimes seem to die and
be no more; but there is no trusting them, even
though they were buried, being always apt and ready
to rise again whenever the occasion or object offers.

That Bacchus should be the inventor of wine,
carries a fine allegory with it ; for every affection is
cunning and subtle in discovering a proper matter to
nourish and feed it; and of all things known to

DIONYSUS, OR BACCHUS. 387

mortals, wine is the most powerful and effectual for
exciting and inflaming passions of all kinds, being,
indeed, like a common fuel to all.

It is again, with great elegance, observed of Bac-
chus, that he subdued provinces, and undertook
endless expeditions, for the affections never rest satis-
fied with what they enjoy, but with an endless and
insatiable appetite thirst after something further.
And tigers are prettily feigned to draw the chariot ;
for as soon as any affection shall, from going on foot,
be advanced to ride, it triumphs over reason, and
exerts its cruelty, fierceness, and strength against all
that oppose it.

It is also humorously imagined, that ridiculous
demons dance and frisk about this chariot ; for every
passion produces indecent, disorderly, interchangeable
and deformed motions in the eyes, countenance, and
gesture, so that the person under the impulse,
whether of anger, insult, love, &c., though to himself
he may seem grand, lofty, or obliging, yet in the eyes
of others appears mean, contemptible, or ridiculous.

The Muses also are found in the train of Bacchus,
for there is scarce any passion without its art, science,
or doctrine to court and flatter it ; but in this respect
the indulgence of men of genius has greatly detracted
from the majesty of the Muses, who ought to be the
leaders and conductors of human life, and not the
handmaids of the passions.

The allegory of Bacchus falling in love with a
cast mistress, is extremely noble; for it is certain

388 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

that the affections always court and covet what has
been rejected upon experience. And all those who
by serving and indulging their passions immensely
raise the value of enjoyment, should know, that
whatever they covet and pursue, whether riches,
pleasure, glory, learning, or anything else, they only
pursue those things that have been forsaken and
cast off with contempt by great numbers in all ages,
after possession and experience.

Nor is it without a mystery that the ivy was sa^
cred to Bacchus, and this for two reasons : first,
because ivy is an evergreen, or flourishes in the
winter; and secondly, because it winds and creeps
about so many things, as trees, walls, and buildings,
and raises itself above them. As to the first, every
passion grows fresh, strong, and vigorous by oppo-
sition and prohibition, as it were by a kind of con-
trast or antiperistasis, like the ivy in the winter.
And for the second, the predominant passion of the
mind throws itself, like the ivy, round all human
actions, entwines all our resolutions, and perpetually
adheres to, and mixes itself among, or even over-
tops them.

And no wonder that superstitious rites and cere-
monies are attributed to Bacchus, when almost every
ungovernable passion growc wanton and luxuriant
in corrupt religions ; nor again, that fury and frenzy
should be sent and dealt out by him, because every
passion is a short frenzy, and if it be vehement,
lasting, and take deep root, it terminates in mad-

ATALANTA AND HIPPOMENES, OR GAIN. 389

ness. And hence the allegory of Pentheus and
Orpheus being torn to pieces is evident ; for every
headstrong passion is extremely bitter, severe, in-
veterate, and revengeful upon all curious inquiry,
wholesome admonition, free counsel, and persuasion.
Lastly ; the confusion between the persons of Ju-
piter and Bacchus will justly admit of an allegory,
because noble and meritorious actions may some-
times proceed from virtue, sound reason, and mag-
nanimity, and sometimes again from a concealed
passion and secret desire of ill, however they may
be extolled and praised, insomuch that it is not easy
to distinguish betwixt the acts of Bacchus and the
acts of Jupiter.

XXV.— ATALANTA AND HIPPOMENES,
OR GAIN.

EXPLAINED OF THE CONTEST BETWIXT ART AND NATURE.

Atalanta, who was exceedingly fleet, contended
with Hippomenes in the course, on condition that,
if Hippomenes won, he should espouse her, or for-
feit his life if he lost. The match was very un-
equal, for Atalanta had conquered numbers, to their
destruction. Hippomenes, therefore, had recourse
to stratagem. He procured three golden apples,
and purposely carried them with him ; they started ;
Atalanta outstripped him soon ; then Hippomenes
bowled one of his apples before her, across the

390 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

couree, in order not only to make her stoop, but to
draw her out of the path. She, prompted by female
curiosity, and the beauty of the golden fruit, starts
from the course to take up the apple. Hippomenes,
in the mean time, holds on his way, and steps before
her ; but she, by her natural swiftness, soon fetches
up her lost ground, and leaves him again behind.
Hippomenes, however, by rightly timing his second
and third throw, at length won the race, not by his
swiftness, but his cunning.

Explanation. — This fable seems to contain a
noble allegory of the contest betwixt art and nature.
For art, here denoted by Atalanta, is much swifter,
or more expeditious in its operations than nature,
when all obstacles and impediments are removed,
and sooner arrives at its end. This appears almost
in every instance. Thus, fruit comes slowly from
the kernel, but soon by inoculation or incision ; clay,
left to itself, is a long time in acquiring a stony
hardness, but is presently burnt by fire into brick.
So again, in human life, nature is a long while in
alleviating and abolishing the remembrance of pain,
and assuaging the troubles of the mind ; but moral
philosophy, which is the art of living, performs it
presently. Yet this prerogative and singular effi-
cacy of art is stopped and retarded to the infinite
detriment of human life, by certain golden apples;
for there is no one science or art that constantly
holds on its true and proper course to the end, but

PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 391

they are all continually stopping short, forsaking
the track, and turning aside to profit and conven-
ience, exactly like Atalanta.^ Whence it is no won-
der that art gets not the victory over nature, nor,
according to the condition of the contest, brings her
under subjection ; but, on the contrary, remains
subject to her, as a wife to a husband.^

XXVL — PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE
OF MAN.

EXPLAINED OF AN OVERRnLING PROVIDENCE, AND OP
HUMAN NATURE.

The ancients relate that man was the work of
Prometheus, and formed of clay; only the artificer
mixed in witli the mass, particles taken from differ-
ent animals. And being desirous to improve his
workmanship, and endow, as well as create, the
human race, he stole up to heaven with a bundle
of birch-rods, and kindling them at the chariot of

1 "Declinat cursus, aurumque volubile toUit."

2 The author, in all his physical works, proceeds upon this
foundation, that it is possible, and practicable, for art to obtain
the victory over nature ; that is, for human industry and power to
procure, by the means of proper knowledge, such things as are
necessary to render life as happy and commodious as its mortal
state will allow. For instance, that it is possible to lengthen the
present period of human life ; bring the winds under command :
and every way extend and enlarge the dominion or empire of man
over the works of nature.

392 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

the Sun, thence brought down fire to the earth for
the service of men.

They add that, for this meritorious act, Prome-
theus was repayed with ingratitude by mankind, so
that, forming a conspiracy, they arraigned both him
and his invention before Jupiter. But the matter
was otherwise received tlian they imagined ; for
the accusation proved extremely grateful to Jupiter
and the gods, insomuch that, delighted with the
action, they not only indulged mankind the use
of fire, but moreover conferred upon them a most
acceptable and desirable present, viz: perpetual
youth.

But men, foolishly overjoyed hereat, laid this
present of the gods upon an ass, who, in returning
back with it, being extremely thirsty, strayed to a
fountain. The serpent, who was guardian thereof,
would not suffbr him to drink, but upon condition
of receiving the burden he carried, whatever it
should be. The silly ass complied, and thus the
perpetual renewal of youth was, for a drop of water,
transferred from men to the race of serpents.

Prometheus, not desisting from his unwarrant-
able practices, though now reconciled to mankind,
after they were thus tricked of their present, but
still continuing inveterate against Jupiter, had the
boldness to attempt deceit, even in a sacrifice, and
is said to have once offered up two bulls to Jupiter,
but so as in the hide of one of them to wrap all the
flesh and fat of both, and stuflfing out the other hide

PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 393

only with the bones ; then, in a religious and devout
manner, gave Jupiter his choice of the two. Jupiter,
detesting this sly fraud and hypocrisy, but having
thus an opportunity of punishing the offender, pur-
posely chose the mock bull.

And now giving way to revenge, but finding he
could not chastise the insolence of Prometheus
without afflicting the human race (in the produc-
tion whereof Prometheus had strangely and in-
sufferably prided himself), he commanded Vulcan
to form a beautiful and graceful woman, to whom
every god presented a certain gift, whence she was
called Pandora.^ They put into her hands an ele-
gant box, containing all sorts of miseries and mis-
fortunes; but Hope was placed at the bottom of
it. With this box she first goes to Prometheus, to
try if she could prevail upon him to receive and
open it ; but he being upon his guard, warily re-
fused the offer. Upon this refusal, she comes to
his brother Epimetheus, a man of a very different
temper, who rashly and inconsiderately opens the
box. When finding all kinds of miseries and mis-
fortunes issued out of it, he grew wise too late, and
with great hurry and struggle endeavored to clap
the cover on again ; but with all his endeavor could
scarce keep in Hope, which lay at the bottom.

Lastly, Jupiter arraigned Prometheus of many
heinous crimes; as that he formerly stole fire from
heaven; that he contemptuously and deceitfully

1 "All-gift."

394 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

mocked him by a sacrifice of bones ; that he de-
spised his present/ adding withal a new crime, that
he attempted to ravish Pallas; for all which, he
was sentenced to be bound in chains, and doomed
to perpetual torments. Accordingly, by Jupiter's
command, he was brought to Mount Caucasus, and
there fastened to a pillar, so firmly that he could no
way stir. A vulture or eagle stood by him, which
in the daytime gnawed and consumed his liver ; but
in the night the wasted parts were supplied again;
whence matter for his pain was never wanting.

They relate, however, that his punishment had
an end; for Hercules sailing the ocean, in a cup,
or pitcher, presented him by the Sun, came at length
to Caucasus, shot the eagle with his arrows, and set
Prometheus free. In certain nations, also, there
were instituted particular games of the torch, to the
honor of Prometheus, in which they who ran for
the prize carried lighted torches ; and as any one
of these torches happened to go out, the bearer
withdrew himself, and gave way to the next ; and
that person was allowed to win the prize, who firet
brought in his lighted torch to the goal.

Explanation. — This fable contains and enforces
many just and serious considerations ; some whereof
have been long since well observed, but some again
remain perfectly untouched. Prometheus clearly and
expressly signifies Providence ; for of all the things

^ Viz : that by Pandora.

PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 395

in nature, the fonnation and endowment of man was
singled out by the ancients, and esteemed the pe-
culiar work of Providence. The reason hereof
seems, l.^That the nature of man includes a mind
and understanding, which is the seat of Providence.
2. That it is harsh and incredible to suppose reason
and mind should be raised, and drawn out of sense-
less and irrational principles ; whence it becomes
almost inevitable, that providence is implanted in
the human mind in conformity with, and by the
direction and the design of the greater overruling
Providence. But, 3. The principal cause is this :
that man seems to be the thing in which the whole
world centres, with respect to final causes ; so that
if he were away, all other things would stray and
fluctuate, without end or intention, or become per-
fectly disjointed, and out of frame; for all things
are made subservient to man, and he receives use
and benefit from them all. Thus the revolutions,
places, and periods, of the celestial bodies, serve
him for distinguishing times and seasons, and for
dividing the world into different regions; the me-
teors afford him prognostications of the weather ;
the winds sail our ships, drive our mills, and move
our machines ; and the vegetables and animals of
all kinds either afford us matter for houses and
habitations, clothing, food, physic ; or tend to
ease, or delight, to support, or refi"e8h us so that
everything in nature seems not made for itself, but
for man.

396 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

And it is not without reason added, that the mass
of matter whereof man was formed, should be mixed
up with particles taken from different animals, and
wrought in with the clay, because it is certain, that of
all things in the universe, man is the most com-
pounded and recompounded body ; so that the
ancients, not improperly, styled him a Microcosm, or
little world within himself. For although the chem-
ists have absurdly, and too literally, wrested and
perverted the elegance of the term microcosm, whilst
they pretend to find all kind of mineral and vegetable
matters, or something corresponding to them, in man,
yet it remains firm and unshaken, that the human
body is, of all substances, the most mixed and or-
ganical ; whence it has surprising powers and faculties;
for the powers of simple bodies are but few, though
certain and quick ; as being little broken, or weak-
ened, and not counterbalanced by mixture ; but ex-
cellence and quantity of energy reside in mixture and
composition.

Man, however, in his first origin, seems to be a
defenceless, naked creature, slow in assisting him-
self, and standing in need of numerous things.
Prometheus, therefore, hastened to the invention of
fire, which supplies and administers to nearly all
human uses and necessities, insomuch that, if the soul
may be called the form of forms, if the hand may be
called the instrument of instruments, fire may, as
properly, be called the assistant of assistants, or the
helper of helps ; for hence proceed numberless opera-

PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 397

tions, hence all the mechanic arts, and hence infinite
assistances are afforded to the sciences themselves.

The manner wherein Prometheus stole this fire is
properly described from the nature of the thing ; he
being said to have done it by applying a rod of birch
to the chariot of the Sun ; for birch is used in strik-
ing and beating, which clearly denotes the generation
of fire to be from the violent percussions and col-
lisions of bodies ; whereby the matters struck are
subtilized, rarefied, put into motion, and so prepared
to receive the heat of the celestial bodies ; whence
they, in a clandestine and secret manner, collect and
snatch fire, as it were by stealth, from the chariot of
the Sun.

The next is a remarkable part of the fable, which
represents that men, instead of gratitude and thanks,
fell into indignation and expostulation, accusing both
Prometheus and his fire to Jupiter, — and yet the
accusation proved highly pleasing to Jupiter ; so that
he, for this reason, crowned these benefits of man-
kind with a new bounty. Here it may seem strange
that the sin of ingratitude to a creator and benefactor,
a sin so heinous as to include almost all others, should
meet with approbation and reward. But the allegory
has another view, and denotes, that the accusation
and arraignment, both of human nature and human
art among mankind, proceeds from a most noble and
laudable temper of the mind, and tends to a very
good purpose ; whereas the contrary temper is odious
to the gods, and unbeneficial in itself. For they who

398 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

break into extravagant praises of human nature, and
the arts in vogue, and who lay themselves out in
admiring the things they already possess, and will
needs have the sciences cultivated among them, to be
thought absolutely perfect and complete, in the first
place, show little regard to the divine nature, whilst
they extol their own inventions almost as high as his
perfection. In the next place, men of this temper
are unserviceable and prejudicial in life, whilst they
imagine themselves already got to the top of things,
and there rest, without further inquiry. On the con-
trary, they who arraign and accuse both nature and
art, and are always full of compaints against them,
not only presei've a more just and modest sense of
mind, but are also perpetually stirred up to fresh
industry and new discoveries. Is not, then, the
ignorance and fatality of mankind to be extremely
pitied, whilst they remain slaves to the arrogance of
a few of their own fellows, and are dotingly fond of
that scrap of Grecian knowledge, the Peripatetic
philosophy ; and this to such a degree, as not only to
think all accusation or arraignment thereof useless, but
even hold it suspect and dangerous ? Certainly the
procedure of Empedocles, though furious — but es-
pecially that of Democritus (who with great modesty
complained that all things were abstruse ; that we
know nothing ; that truth lies hid in deep pits ; that
falsehood is strangely joined and twisted along with
truth, &c.) — is to be preferred beiore the confident,
assuming, and dogmatical school of Aristotle. Man-

PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 399

kind are, therefore, to be admonished, that the arraign-
ment of nature and of art is pleasing to the gods ;
and that a sliarp and vehement accusation of Pro-
metheus, though a creator, a founder, and a master,
obtained new blessings and presents from the divine
bounty, and proved more sound and serviceable than
a diffusive harangue of praise and gratulation. And
let men be assured that the fond opinion that they
have already acquired enough, is a principal reason
why they have acquired so little.

That the perpetual flower of youth should be the
present which mankind received as a reward for their
accusation, carries this moral ; that the ancients seem
not to have despaired of discovering methods, and
remedies, for retarding old age, and prolonging the
period of human life ; but rather reckoned it among
those things which, through sloth and want of diligent
inquiry, perish and come to nothing, after having
been once undertaken, than among such as are ab-
solutely impossible, or placed beyond the reach of
the human power. For they signify and intimate
from the true use of fire, and the just and strenuous
accusation and conviction of the errors of art, that
the divine bounty is not wanting to men in such kind
of presents, but that men indeed are wanting to
themselves, and lay such an inestimable gift upon the
back of a slow-paced ass ; that is, upon the back of
the heavy, dull, lingering thing, experience ; from
whose sluggish and tortoise-pace proceeds that ancient
complaint of the shortness of life, and the slow

400 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

advancement of arts. And certainly it may well seem,
that the two faculties of reasoning and experience
are not hitherto properly joined and coupled together,
but to be still new giftg of the gods, separately laid,
the one upon the back of a light bird, or abstract
philosophy, and the other upon an ass, or slow-paced
practice and trial. And yet good hopes might be
conceived of this ass, if it were not for his thirst and
the accidents of the way. For we judge, that if any
one would constantly proceed, by a certain law and
method, in the road of experience, and not by the
way thirst after such experiments as make for profit
or ostentation, nor exchange his burden, or quit the
original design for the sake of these, he might be an
useful bearer of a new and accumulated divine bounty
to mankind.

That this gift of perpetual youth should pass from
men to serpents, seems added by way of ornament, and
illustration to the fable; perhaps intimating, at the
same time, the shame it is for men, that they, with
their fire, and numerous arts, cannot procure to them-
selves those things which nature has bestowed upon
many other creatures.

The sudden reconciliation of Prometheus to man-
kind, after being disappointed of their hopes, contains
a prudent and useful admonition. It points out the
levity and temerity of men in new experiments, when,
not presently succeeding, or answering to expectation,
they precipitantly quit their new undertakings, hurry
back to their old ones, and grow reconciled thereto.

PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 401

After the fable has described the state of man,
with regard to arts aud intellectual matters, it passes
on to religion ; for after the inventing and settling
of arts, follows the establishment of divine worship,
which hypocrisy presently enters into and corrupts.
So that by the two sacrifices we have elegantly
painted the person of a man truly religious, and of an
hypocrite. One of these sacrifices contained the fat,
or the portion of God, used for burning and incensing ;
thereby denoting affection and zeal, offered up to his
glory. It likewise contained the bowels, which are
expressive of charity, along with the good and useful
flesh. But the other contained nothing more than
dry bones, which nevertheless stuffed out the hide, so
as to make it resemble a fair, beautiful, and magnifi-
cent sacrifice; hereby finely denoting the external
and empty rites and barren ceremonies, wherewith
men burden and stuff out the divine worship, — : things
rather intended for show and ostentation than con-
ducing to piety. Nor are mankind simply content
with this mock-worship of God, but also impose and
further it upon him, as if he had chosen and ordained
it. Certainly the prophet, in the person of God, has
a fine expostulation, as to this matter of choice : " Is
this the fasting which I have chosen, that a man
should afflict his soul for a day, and bow down his
head like a bulrush ? "

After thus touching the state of religion, the fable
next turns to manners, and the conditions of human
life. And though it be a very common, yet is it a

402 WISDOM OP THE ANCIENTS.

just interpretation, that Pandora denotes the pleas-
ures and licentiousness which the cultivation and
luxury of the arts of civil life introduce, as it were,
by the instrumental efficacy of fire ; whence the works
of the voluptuary arts are properly attributed to Vul-
can, the God of Fire. And hence infinite miseries
and calamities have proceeded to the minds, the
bodies, and the fortunes of men, together with a late
repentance ; and this not in each man's particular, but
also in kingdoms and states ; for wars, and tumults,
and tyrannies, have all arisen from this same fountain,
or box of Pandora.

It is worth observing, how beautifully and elegantly
the fable has drawn two reigning characters in hu-
man life, and given two examples, or tablatures of
them, under the persons of Prometheus and Epime-
theus. The followers of Epimetheus are improvident,
see not far before them, and prefer such things as
are agreeable for the present; whence they are op-
pressed with numerous straits, difficulties, and calam-
ities, with which they almost continually struggle ;
but in the mean time gratify their own temper, and,
for want of a better knowledge of things, feed their
minds with many vain hopes ; and as with so many
pleasing dreams, delight themselves, and sweeten
the miseries of life.

But the followers of Prometheus are the prudent,
wai7 men, that look into futurity, and cautiously
guard against, prevent, and undermine many calami-
ties and misfortunes. But this watchful, provident

PROMETHEUS, ORTHE STATE OF MAN. 403

temper, is attended with a deprivation of numerous
pleasures, and the loss of various delights, whilst
such men debar themselves the use even of innocent
things, and what is still worse, rack and torture
themselves with cares, fears, and disquiets; being
bouiid fast to the pillar of necessity, and tormented
with numberless thoughts (which for their swiftness
are well compared to an eagle), that continually
wound, tear, and gnaw their liver or mind, unless,
perhaps, they find some small remission by intervals,
or as it were at nights ; but then new anxieties,
dreads, and fears, soon return again, as it were in
the morning. And, therefore, very few men, of
either temper, have secured to themselves the ad-
vantages of providence, and kept clear of disquiets,
troubles, and misfortunes.

Nor indeed can any man obtain this end without
the assistance of Hercules ; that is, of such fortitude
and constancy of mind as stands prepared against
every event, and remains indifferent to every change;
looking forward without being daunted, enjoying the
good without disdain, and enduring the bad without
impatience. And it must be observed, that even
Prometheus had not the power to free himself, but
owed his deliverance to another ; for no natural in-
bred force and fortitude could prove equal to such a
task. The power of releasing him came from the
utmost confines of the ocean, and from the sun ;
that is, from Apollo, or knowledge ; and again, from
a due consideration of the uncertainty, instability,

404 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

and fluctuating state of human life, which is aptly
represented by sailing the ocean. Accordingly,
Virgil has prudently joined these two together, ac-
counting him happy who knows the causes of things,
and has conquered all his fears, apprehensions, and
superstitions.^

It is added, with great elegance, for supporting
and confirming the human mind, that the great hero
who thus delivered him sailed the ocean in a cup,
or pitcher, to prevent fear, or complaint ;. as if,
through the narrowness of our nature, or a too great
fragility thereof, we were absolutely incapable of
that fortitude and constancy to which Seneca finely
alludes, when he says : " It is a noble thing, at once
to participate in the frailty of man and the security
of a god."

We have hitherto, that we might not break the
connection of things, designedly omitted the last
crime of Prometheus — that of attempting the chas-
tity of Minerva — which heinous offence it doubtless
was, that caused the punishment of having his liver
gnawed by the vulture. The meaning seems to be
this, — that when men are puffed up with arts
and knowledge, they often try to subdue even the
divine wisdom and bring it under the dominion of
sense and reason, whence inevitably follows a per-

1 " Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,
Quique metus omnes et inexorabile fatum
Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari."

Oe(rrg. ii. 490.

PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 405

petual and restless rending and tearing of the mind.
A sober and humble distinction must, therefore, be
made betwixt divine and human things, and betwixt
the oracles of sense and faith, unless mankind had
rather choose an heretical religion, and a fictitious
and romantic philosophy.^

The last particular in the fable is the Games of
the Torch, instituted to Prometheus, which again
relates to arts and sciences, as well as the inven-
tion of fire, for the commemoration and celebration
whereof these games were held. And here we have
an extremely prudent admonition, directing us to ex-
pect the perfectien of the sciences from succession,
and not from the swiftness and abilities of any single
person; for he who is fleetest and strongest in the
course may perhaps be less fit to keep his torch
alight, since there is danger of its going out from too
rapid as well as from too slow a motion.^ But this
kind of contest, with the torch, seems to have been
Icng dropped and neglected ; the sciences appearing
to have flourished principally in their first authors,
as Aristotle, Galen, Euclid, Ptolemy, &c. ; whilst

^ De Augtnentis Sdentiarum, sec. xxviii. and supplem. xv.

* An allusion which, in Plato's writings, is applied to the rapid
succession of generations, through which the continuity of human
life is maintained from age to age ; and which are perpetually
transferring from hand to hand the concerns and duties of this
fleeting scene. Tewwj'rey re Kal iKTpi<f>ovrei iratSoj, KdOawep Xafirdda
Tov ^iov irapadidovres aXXoij i^ aWuv — Plato, Leg. b. vi. Lucre-
tius also has the same metaphor : —

" Et quasi cursores vital lampada tradunt."

406 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

their successors have done very little, or scarce made
any attempts. But it were highly to be wished
that these games might be renewed, to the honor
of Prometheus, or human nature, and that they
might excite contest, emulation, and laudable en-
deavors, and the design meet with such success as
not to hang tottering, tremulous, and hazarded, upon
the torch of any single person. Mankind, therefore,
should be admonished to rouse themselves, and try
and exert their own strength and chance, and not
place all their dependence upon a few men, whose
abilities and capacities, perhaps, are not greater than
their own.

These are the particulars which appear to us
shadowed out by this trite and vulgar fable, though
without denying that there may be contained in it
several intimations that have a surprising corre-
spondence with the Christian mysteries. In partic-
ular, the voyage of Hercules, made in a pitcher, to
release Prometheus, bears an allusion to the word
of God, coming in the frail vessel of the flesh to
redeem mankind. But we indulge ourselves no such
liberties as these, for fear of using strange fire at
the altar of the Lord.

ICARUS, OR THE MIDDLE WAY. 407

XXVII.— ICARUS AND SCYLLA AND CHA-
RITBDIS, OR THE MIDDLE WAY.

EXPLAINED OF MEDIOCRITY IN NATURAL AND MORAL
PHILOSOPHY.

Mediocrity, or the holding a middle course, has
-been highly extolled in morality, but little in matters
of science, though no less useful and proper here ;
whilst in politics it is held suspected, and ought to
be employed with judgment. The ancients described
mediocrity in manners by the course prescribed to
Icarus ; and in matters of the understanding by the
steering betwixt Scylla and Charybdis, on account
of the great difficulty and danger in passing those
straits.

Icarus, being to fly across the sea, was ordered
by his father neither to soar too high nor fly too low,
for, as his wings were fastened together with wax,
r there was danger of its melting by the sun's heat in
too high a flight, and of its becoming less tenacious
by the moisture if he kept too near the vapor of
the sea. But he, with a juvenile confidence, soared
aloft, and fell down headlong.

Explanation. — The fable is vulgar, and easily
interpreted ; for the path of virtue lies straight be-
tween excess on the one side, and defect on the
other. And no wonder that excess should prove

408 WISDOM OP THE ANCIENTS.

the bane of Icarus, exulting in juvenile strength and
vigor; for excess is the natural vice of youth, as
defect is that of old age ; and if a man must perish
by either, Icarus chose the better of the two; for
all defects are justly esteemed more depraved than
excesses. There is some magnanimity in excess,
that, like a bird, claims kindred with the heavens ;
but defect is a reptile, that basely crawls upon the
earth. It was excellently said by Heraclitus : " A
dry light makes the best soul ; " for if the soul con-
tracts moisture from the earth, it perfectly degener-
ates and sinks. On the other hand, moderation
must be observed, to prevent this fine light from
burning, by its too great subtility and dryness. But
these observations are common.

In matters of the understanding, it requires great
skill and a particular felicity to steer clear of Scylla
and Charybdis. If the ship strikes upon Scylla, it
is dashed in pieces against the rocks; if upon
Charybdis, it is swallowed outright. This allegory
is pregnant with matter ; but we shall only observe
the force of it lies here, that a mean be observed in
every doctrine and science, and in the rules and
axioms thereof, between the rocks of distinctions
and the whirlpools of universalities: for these two
are the bane and shipwreck of fine geniuses and arts.

SPHINX, OR SCIENCE. 409

XXVIII. — SPHINX, OR SCIENCE.

EXPLAINED OF THE SCIENCES.

They relate that Sphinx was a monster, vari-
ously formed, having the face and voice of a virgin,
the wings of a bird, and the talons of a griffin. She
resided on the top of a mountain, near the city
Thebes, and also beset the highways. Her manner
was to lie in ambush and seize the travellers, and
having them in her power, to propose to them cer-
tain dark and perplexed riddles, which it was thought
she received from the Muses, and if her wretched
captives could not solve and interpret these riddles,
she, with great cruelty, fell upon them, in their hesi-
tation and confusion, and tore them to pieces. This
plague having reigned a long time, the Thebans at
length offered their kingdom to the man who could
inteq^ret her riddles, there being no other way to
subdue her. (Edipus, a penetrating and prudent
man, though lame in his feet, excited by so great a
reward, accepted the condition, and with a good as-
surance of mind, cheerfully presented himself before
the monster, who directly asked him : " What crea-
ture that was, which, being born four-footed, after-
wards became two-footed, then three-footed, and lastly
four-footed again ? " (Edipus, with presence of mind,
replied it was man, who, upon his first birth and in-
fant state, crawled upon all fours in endeavoring to

410 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

walk ; but not long after went upright upon his two
natural feet ; again, in old age walked three-footed,
with a stick ; and at last, growing decrepit, lay four-
footed confined to his bed ; and having by this exact
solution obtained the victory, he slew the monster,
and, laying the carcass upon an ass, led her away in
triumph ; and upon this he was, according to the
agreement, made king of Thebes.

Explanation. — This is an elegant, instructive
fable, and seems invented to represent science, espe-
cially as joined with practice. For science may, with-
out absurdity, be called a monster, being strangely
gazed at and admired by the ignorant and unskilful.
Her figure and form is various, by reason of the vast
variety of subjects that science considers ; her voice
and countenance are represented female, by reason of
her gay appearance and volubility of speech ; wings
are added, because the sciences and their inventions
run and fly about in a moment, for knowledge like light
communicated from one torch to another, is presently
caught and copiously diffused; sharp and hooked talons
are elegantly attributed to her, because the axioms
and arguments of science enter the mind, lay hold of it,
fix it down, and keep it from moving or slipping away.
This the sacred philosopher observed, when he said :
" The words of the wise are like goads or nails driven
far in." ^ Again, all science seems placed on high, as
it were on the tops of mountains that are hard to
1 Eccles. xii. 11.

SPHINX, OR SCIENCE. 411

climb ; for science is justly imagined a sublime and
lofty thing, looking down upon ignorance from an
eminence, and at the same time taking an extensive
view on all sides, as is usual on the tops of mountains.
Science is said to beset the highways, because through
all the journey and peregrination of human life there
is matter and occasion offered of contemplation.

Sphinx is said to propose various difficult questions
and riddles to men, which she received from the
Muses ; and these questions, so long as they remain
with the Muses, may very well be unaccompanied
witli severity, for while there is no other end of con-
templation and inquiry but that of knowledge alone,
the understanding is not oppressed, or driven to straits
and difficulties, but expatiates and ranges at large,
and even receives a degree of pleasure from doubt and
variety; but after the Muses have given over their
riddleb to Sphinx, that is, to practice, which urges
and impels to action, choice, and determination, then
it is that they become torturing, severe, and trying,
and, unless solved and interpreted, strangely perplex
and harass the human mind, rend it every way, and
perfectly tear it to pieces. All the riddles of Sphinx,
therefore, have two conditions annexed, viz : dilacera-
tion to those who do not solve them, and empire to
those that do. For he who understands the thing
proposed, obtains his end, and every artificer rules
over his work. ^

1 This is what the author so frequently inculcates in the Novum
Organum, viz : that knowledge and power are reciprocal ; so that

412 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

Sphinx has no more than two kinds of riddles, one
relating to the nature of things, the other to the na-
ture of man ; and correspondent to these, the prizes
of the solution are two kinds of empire, — the empire
over nature, and the empire over man. For the true and
ultimate end of natural philosophy is dominion over
natural things, natural bodies, remedies, machines,
and numberless other particulars, though the schools,
contented with what spontaneously offers, and swollen
with their own discourses, neglect, and in a manner
despise, both things and works.

But the riddle proposed to (Edipus, the solution
whereof acquired him the Theban kingdom, regarded
the nature of man ; for he who has thoroughly looked
into and examined human nature, may in a manner
command his own fortune, and seems born to acquire
dominion and rule. Accordingly, Virgil properly
makes the arts of government to be the arts of the
Romans. ^ It was, therefore, extremely apposite in
Augustus Csesar to use the image of Sphinx in his
signet, whether this happened by accident or by
design ; for he of all men was deeply versed in pol-
itics, and through the course of his life very happily
solved abundance of new riddles with regard to the
nature of man ; and unless he had done this with
great dexterity and ready address, he would frequently

to improve in knowledge is to improve in the power of commanding
nature, by introducing new arts, and producing works and effects.
1 " Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento :
Hse tibi enint artes."

^neid, vi. 851.

PROSERPINE, OR SPIRIT. 413

have been involved in imminent danger, if not
destruction.

It is with the utmost elegance added in the fable,
that when Sphinx was conquered, her carcass was
laid upon an ass ; for there is nothing so subtile and
abstruse, but after being once made plain, intelligible,
and common, it may be received by the slowest
capacity.

We must not omit that Sphinx was conquered by
a lame man, and impotent in his feet; for men
usually make too much haste to the solution of
Sphinx's riddles ; whence it happens, that she pre-
vailing, their minds are rather racked and torn by
disputes, than invested with command by works and
effects.

XXIX. — PROSERPINE, OR SPIRIT.

EXPLAINED OF THE SPIRIT INCLUDED IN NATURAL BODIES.

They tell us, Pluto having, upon that memorable
division of empire among the gods, received the iiv-
fernal regions for his share, despaired of winning any
one of the goddesses in marriage by an obsequious
courtship, and therefore through necessity resolved
upon a rape. Having watched his opportunity, he
suddenly seized upon Proserpine, a most beautiful
virgin, the daughter of Ceres, as she was gathering
narcissus flowers in the meads of Sicily, and hurrying

414 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

her to his chariot, carried her with him to the sub-
terraneal regions, where she was treated with the
highest reverence, and styled the Lady of Dis. But
Ceres, missing her only daughter, whom she extremely
loved, grew pensive and anxious beyond measure, and
taking a lighted torch in her hand, wandered the
world over in quest of her daughter, — but all to no
purpose, till, suspecting she might be carried to the
infernal regions, she, with great lamentation and
abundance of tears, importuned Jupiter to restore her ;
and with much ado prevailed so far as to recover and
bring her away, if she had tasted nothing there. This
proved a hard condition upon the mother, for Proser-
pine was found to have eaten three kernels of a
pomegranate. Ceres, however, desisted not, but fell
to her entreaties and lamentations afresh, insomuch
that at last it was indulged her that Proserpine should
divide the year betwixt her husband and her mother,
and live six months with the one and as many with
the other. After this, Theseus and Perithous, with
uncommon audacity, attempted to force Proserpine
away from Pluto's bed, but happening to grow tired
in their journey, and resting themselves upon a stone
in the realms below, they could never rise from it
again, but remain sitting there forever. Proserpine,
therefore, still continued queen of the lower regions,
in honor of whom there was also added this grand
privilege, that though it had never been permitted any
one to return after having once descended thither, a
particular exception was made, that he who brought a

PROSERPINE, OR SPIRIT. 415

golden bough as a present to Proserpine, might on
that condition descend and return. This was an only
bough that grew in a large dark grove, not from a
tree of its own, but like the mistletoe from another,
and when plucked away a fresh one always shot out
in its stead.

Explanation. — This fable seems to regard nat-
ural philosophy, and searches deep into that rich and
fruitful virtue and supply in subterraneous bodies,
from whence all the things upon the earth's surface
spring, and into which they again relapse and return.
By Proserpine, the ancients denoted that ethereal
spirit shut up and detained within the earth, here
represented by Pluto, — the spirit being separated
from the superior globe, according to the expression
of the poet. ^ This spirit is conceived as ravished, or
snatched up by the earth, because it can in no way
be detained, when it has time and opportunity to fly
off, but is only wrought together and fixed by sudden
intermixture and comminution, in the same manner as
if one should endeavor to mix air with water, which
cannot otherwise be done than by a quick and rapid
agitation, that joins them together in froth whilst the
air is thus caught up by the water. And it is ele-
gantly added, that Proserpine was ravished whilst she
gathered narcissus flowers, which have their name
from numbedness or stupefaction ; for the spirit we

1 '* Sive recens tellus, seductaque nuper ab alta

.^there, cognati retinebat semina coeli." — Metam. i. 80.

416 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

speak of is in the fittest disposition to be embraced by
terrestrial matter when it begins to coagulate, or grow
torpid as it were.

It is an honor justly attributed to Proserpine, and
not to any other wife of the gods, that of being the
lady or mistress of her husband, because this spirit
performs all its operations in the subterraneal regions,
whilst Pluto, or the earth, remains stupid, or as it
were ignorant of them.

The ether, or the efficacy of the heavenly bodies,
denoted by Ceres, endeavors with infinite diligence to
force out this spirit, and restore it to its pristine state.
And by the torch in the hand of Ceres, or the ether,
is doubtless meant the sun, which disperses light over
the whole globe of the earth, and if the thing were
possible, must have the greatest share in recovering
Proserpine, or reinstating the subterraneal spirit.
Yet Proserpine still continues and dwells below, after
the manner excellently described in the condition be-
twixt Jupiter and Ceres. For first, it is certain that
there are two ways of detaining the spirit, in solid and
terrestrial matter, — the one by condensation or ob-
struction, which is mere violence and imprisonment;
the other by administering a proper aliment, which is
spontaneous and free. For after the included spirit
begins to feed and nourish itself, it is not in a hurry
to fly off, but remains as it were fixed in its own
earth. And this is the moral of Proserpine's tasting
the pomegranate ; and were it not for this, she must
long ago have been carried up by Ceres, who with

PROSERPINE, OR SPIRIT. 417

her torch wandered the world over, and so the earth
have been left without its spirit. For though the
spirit in metals and minerals may perhaps be, after a
particular manner, wrought in by the solidity of the
mass, yet the spirit of vegetables and animals has
open passages to escape at, unless it be willingly
detained, in the way of sipping and tasting them.

The second article of agreement, that of Proser-
pine's remaining six months with her mother and
six with her husband, is an elegant description of
the division of the year ; for the spirit diffused
through the earth lives above-ground in the vege-
table world during the summer months, but in the
winter returns under ground again.

The attempt of Theseus and Perithous to bring
Proserpine away, denotes that the more subtile
spirits, which descend in many bodies to the earth,
may frequently be unable to drink in, unite with
themselves, and carry off the subterraneous spirit,
but on the contrary be coagulated by it, and rise
no more, so as to increase the inhabitants and add
to the dominion of Proserpine.^

The alchemists will be apt to fall in with our in-
terpretation of the golden bough, whether we will
or no, because they promise golden mountains, and

' Many philosophers have certain speculations to this purpose.
Sir Isaac Newton, in particular, suspects that the earth receives
its vivifying spirit from the comets. And the philosophical
chemists and astrologers have spun the thought into many fan-
tastical distinctions and varieties. — See Newton, Prindp. lib. iii.
p. 473, &c.

418 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

the restoration of natural bodies from their stone,
as from the gates of Pluto ; but we are well as-
sured that their theory had no jiLst foundation, and
suspect they have no very encouraging or practical
proofs of its soundness. Leaving, therefore, their
conceits to themselves, we shall freely declare our
own sentiments upon this last part of the fable.
We are certain, from numerous figures and expres-
sions of the ancients, that they judged the conserva-
tion, and in some degree the renovation, of natural
bodies to be no desperate or impossible thing, but
rather abstruse and out of the common road than
wholly impracticable. And this seems to be their
opinion in the present case, as they have placed
this bough among an infinite number of shrubs, in
a spacious and thick wood. They supposed it of
gold, because gold is the emblem of duration. They
feigned it adventitious, not native, because such an
eflfect is to be expected from art, and not from any
medicine or any simple or mere natural way of
working.

METIS, OR COUNSEL. 419

XXX. — METIS, OR COUNSEL.

EXPLAINED OF PRINCES AND THEIR COUNCIL.

The ancient poets relate that Jupiter took Metis
to wife, whose name plainly denotes counsel, and
that he, perceiving she was pregnant by him, would
by no means wait the time of her delivery, but di-
rectly devoured her; whence himself also became
pregnant, and was delivered in a wonderful manner ;
for he from his head or brain brought forth Pallas
armed.

Explanation. — This fable, which in its literal
sense appears monstrously absurd, seems to con-
tain a state secret, and shows with what art kings
usually carry themselves towards their council, in
order to preserve their own authority and majesty
not only inviolate, but so as to have it magnified
and heightened among the people. For kings
commonly link themselves, as it were, in a nuptial
bond to their council, and deliberate and communi-
cate with them after a prudent and laudable custom
upon matters of the greatest importance, at the
same time justly conceiving this no diminution of
their majesty; but when the matter once ripens to
a decree or order, which is a kind of birth, the
king then suffers the council to go on no further,

420 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

lest the act should seem to depend upon their pleas-
ure. Now, therefore, the king usually assumes to
himself whatever was wrought, elaborated, or formed,
as it were, in the womb of the council (unless it be
a matter of an invidious nature, which he is sure
to put from him), so that the decree and the execu-
tion shall seem to flow from himself.^ And as this de-
cree or execution proceeds with prudence and power,
so as to imply necessity, it is elegantly wrapped
up under the figure of Pallas armed.

Nor are kings content to have this seem the effect
of their own authority, free will, and uncontrollable
choice, unless they also take the whole honor to
themselves, and make the people imagine that all
good and wholesome decrees proceed entirely from
their own head, that is, their own sole prudence and
judgment.

XXXI. — THE SIRENS, OR PLEASURES.

EXPLAINED OF MEN's PASSION FOR PLEASURES.

Introduction. — The fable of the Sirens is, in
a vulgar sense, justly enough explained of the
pernicious incentives to pleasure ; but the ancient

1 This policy strikingly characterized the condtict of Louis XIV.,
who placed his generals under a particular injunction, to advertise
hiui of the success of any siege likely to be crowned with an im-
mediate triumph, that he might attend in person and appear to
take the town by a coup de main.

THE SIEENS, OR PLEASURES. 421

mythology seems to us like a vintage ill-pressed and
trod ; for though something has been drawn from it,
yet all the more excellent parts remain behind in the
grapes that are untouched.

Fable. — The Sirens are said to be the daughters
of Achelous and Terpsichore, one of the Muses. In
their early days they had wings, but lost them upon
being conquered by the Muses, with whom they
rashly contended; and with the feathers of these
wings the Muses made themselves crowns, so that
from this time the Muses wore wings on their heads,
except only the mother to the Sirens.

These Sirens resided in certain pleasant islands,
and when, from their watch-tower, they saw any
ship approaching, they first detained the sailors by
their music, then, enticing them to shore, destroyed
them.

Their singing was not of one and the same kind,
but they adapted their tunes exactly to the nature
of each person, in order to captivate and secure him.
And so destructive had they been, that these islands
of the Sirens appeared, to a very great distance,
white with the bones of their unburied captives.

TSvo different remedies were invented to protect
persons against them, the one by Ulysses, the other
by Orpheus. Ulysses commanded his associates to
stop their ears close with wax ; and he, determining
to make the trial, and yet avoid the danger, ordered
himself to be tied fast to a mast of the ship, giving

422 WISDOM OP THE ANCIENTS.

strict charge not to be unbound, even though him-
self should entreat it ; but Orpheus, without any
binding at all, escaped the danger, by loudly chant-
ing to his harp the praises of the gods, whereby he
drowned the voices of the Sirens.

Explanation. — This fable is of the moral kind,
and appears no less elegant than easy to interpret.
For pleasures proceed from plenty and affluence,
attended with activity or exultation of the mind.^
Anciently their first incentives were quick, and
seized upon men as if they had been winged, but
learning and philosophy afterwards prevailing, had
at least the power to lay the mind under some re-
straint, and make it consider the issue of things, and
thus deprived pleasures of their wings.

This conquest redounded greatly to the honor and
ornament of the Muses; for after it appeared, by
the example of a few, that philosophy could intro-
duce a contempt of pleasures, it immediately seemed
to be a sublime thing that could raise and elevate
the soul, fixed in a manner down to the earth, and
thus render men's thoughts, which reside in the head,
winged as it were, or sublime.

Only the mother of the Sirens was not thus plumed
on the head, which doubtless denotes superficial
learning, invented and used for delight and levity;

^ The one denoted by the river Achelous, and the other by
Terpsichore, the muse that invented the cithara and delighted in
dancing.

THE SIRENS, OR PLEASURES. 423

an eminent example whereof we hare in Petronius,
who, after receiving sentence of death, still continued
his gay frothy humor, and as Tacitus observes, used
his learning to solace or divert himself, and instead
of such discourses as give firmness and constancy
of mind, read nothing but loose poems and verses.^
Such learning as this seems to pluck the crowns
again from the Muses' heads, and restore them to
the Sirens.

The Sirens are said to inhabit certain islands, be-
cause pleasures generally seek retirement, and often
shun society. And for their songs, with the mani-
fold artifice and destructiveness thereof, this is too
obvious and common to need explanation. But
that particular of the bones stretching like white
cliffs along the shores, and appearing afar off", con-
tains a more subtile allegory, and denotes that the
examples of others' calamity and misfortunes, though
ever so manifest and apparent, have yet but little
force to deter the corrupt nature of man from
pleasures.

The allegory of the remedies against the Sirens
is not difficult, but very wise and noble ; it proposes,

1 "Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus ;
Rumoresque senum severiorum
Omnes unius estiraemus assis. " — Catull. Eleg. v.

And. again —

" Jura senes norint, et quod sit fasque nefasque
Inquirant tristes ; legumque examina servent."

Metam. iz. 550.

424 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

in effect, three remedies, as well against subtile as
violent mischiefs, two dra%vn from philosopliy and
one from religion.

The first means of escaping is to resist the earli-
est temptation in the beginning, and diligently avoid
and cut off all occasions that may solicit or sway
the mind ; and this is well represented by shutting
up the ears, a kind of remedy to be necessarily used
with mean and vulgar minds, such as the retinue of
Ulysses.

But nobler spirits may converse, even in the midst
of pleasures, if the mind be well guarded Avith
constancy and resolution. And thus some delight
to make a severe trial of their own virtue, and
thoroughly acquaint themselves with the folly and
madness of pleasures, without complying or being
wholly given up to them ; which is what Solomon
professes of himself when he closes the account of
all the numerous pleasures he gave a loose to, with
this expression : " But wisdom still continued with
me." Such heroes in virtue may, therefore, remain
unmoved by the greatest incentives to pleasure,
and stop themselves on the very precipice of dan-
ger; if, according to the example of Ulysses, they
turn a deaf ear to pernicious counsel, and the
flatteries of their friends and companions, which
have the greatest power to shake and unsettle
the mind.

But the most excellent remedy, in every tempta-
tion, is that of Orpheus, who, by loudly chanting

THE SIRENS, OR PLEASURES. 425

and resounding the praises of the gods, confounded
the voices, and kept himself from hearing the music
of the Sirens ; for divine contemplations exceed the
pleasures of sense, not only in power but also in
sweetness.

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